


It's Not Really Stealing, Honest

by Dragontrill



Series: Broken [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky is a horny little bastard, Debts owed, Groot not so much, How the hell do they all fit on that ship anyway?, Loki is a troll, M/M, Periodic use of alien species from the Mass Effect games, Peter is a fanboy, Protective!Drax, Sleipnir adores Groot, Steve has a mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 51,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragontrill/pseuds/Dragontrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To save Bucky's life, Steve Rogers once swore his service to Loki. Loki has now called on that debt and sends him and two others to steal something impossible from someone unstoppable.</p><p>They might need some help with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [It's Not Really Stealing, Honest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158219) by [ogawaryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogawaryoko/pseuds/ogawaryoko)



> I'm currently practicing my comics drawing, so here. Have some drama filled artwork. http://hydraa.deviantart.com/art/Image-508485869

Loki LieSmith strode across the green hills, the length of his fine green coat swirling around his legs and across the tops of sun-hungry wildflowers. He moved with the regality of the king he was, head up and proud, shoulders square and back until Steve Rogers body tackled him face first into a patch of clover.

“Damn it, Loki!” he shouted. “Don’t you walk away from me! I want answers!”

Stunned, Loki lifted his head. Rogers was sitting across the small of his back, knees to either side of him. Loki tried to throw him off, but even with his superior strength, the human had leverage on him and was able to keep him pinned. He’d have to use magic he couldn’t spare for this to get him off.

“Get off of me!” he yelled instead.

The man Rogers was with, Barnes, the one he called ‘Bucky’, crouched down in front of Loki. Rogers had pulled on a pair of pants before he ran after Loki, but Barnes hadn’t bothered and his bare skin was quite distracting, if not so attention-getting as the point of the knife he touched to the tender flesh inside Loki’s left nostril. 

“I should have left YOU in that tube,” Loki growled at him. Rogers’ personal hunting dog didn’t move, waiting for orders.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Rogers demanded again. “I’m getting tired of asking.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “No wonder my idiot not-brother likes you,” he complained. “You have no refinement.”

“If you don’t want Buck to give you a third nostril, you better start talking.”

“Fine, whatever. I was going to tell you later, in a setting more suited to your status, Captain, but if you insist.” He folded his hands in front of him, ignoring the weight of the man on his back along with the knife still pressed against his skin. “I have need of your services.”

“And?” Rogers asked after a minute.

“And you swore yourself to my service, in return for the location of this one. I provided that.” Barnes’ expression didn’t even flicker. “Have you forgotten?”

“Nope.” He put extra emphasis on the P. “But I don’t do well just blindly following orders. Or staying ignorant. What is this place?”

“This? This is a minor burrough of Asgard. A tiny garden ill suited to the usual boorish pursuits of bone-headed warriors. Not nearly enough vicious things to kill.” He was starting to get annoyed with the knife jammed up his nose and laid a finger against Barnes’ wrist, pushing it away. The man resisted, muscles trembling as he fought against Loki’s strength. He was more than the average mortal, but still nothing against the strength of a god and the knife moved gratifyingly away from Loki’s face.

Barnes pulled a gun with his other hand and pressed it against the side of Loki’s head.

Loki actually blinked at that one. “Where does he hide these?”

“I have no idea.” Rogers gripped the long hair at the back of Loki’s head. “I’ve been to Asgard. It’s impressive, but I didn’t feel like this. I feel like…”

“More than a man?” Loki said, ignoring the gun. At least it was more comfortable than the knife. “You were frozen when I brought you here, Captain. I took the liberty of giving you both a restorative tonic as I have neither the time nor the inclination to tend to you. It has certain effects on the senses that you experienced.”

“Meaning?” Rogers sounded uncertain.

Mortals were so stupid. Loki risked getting shot in the head so he could turn and look over his shoulder at the leader of the Avengers. “I mean you were high, you ignorant simpleton.”

The horrified expression on the man’s face made Loki grin. “Oops? Did we do something we maybe should not have?” The way he immediately looked at Bucky made Loki laugh out loud. 

“Ah, you are so precious.” He was starting to get uncomfortable and he was never going to get all the dirt out of his embroidery. “Now get off of me. I’m losing my patience.”

Rogers’ eyes narrowed. “Not yet. How long?”

Loki’s eyebrows rose. “How long what?”

The man’s lips narrowed to a tight line. “You brought us out of cryo-stasis. How long were we frozen?”

“Oh, that.” Loki shrugged. “Five hundred years.”

“WHAT?”

“Give or take. I hardly felt it necessary to keep track. I am a god, mortal. Five hundred years is a weekend to me.”

Rogers looked absolutely horrified, but at least he finally got off of him. Loki stood and brushed himself off. Barnes straightened and walked over to Rogers’ side, utterly unselfconscious in his nudity. He was really quite lovely.

Loki directed himself towards Rogers’ again before he became further distracted. There were many lovelies he could have in his bed who didn’t have a tendency to pull weapons every other second.

“Now, if you are done asking questions I have no interest in answering, we have quite a ways to go and to my great distress, we need to walk.”

Rogers’ frowned at that. Barnes looked at him and pointed the gun at Loki’s head again.

“Will you tell him to stop doing that?” Loki was annoyed with himself when he couldn’t quite keep the whine out of his voice.

“Buck, it’s okay. He won’t hurt us.” Rogers said that while glaring at Loki, who sighed and nodded. 

“You can hardly serve me well if I do,” he pointed out.

Barnes lowered the gun at Steve’s direction and some of the impassive killer went out of his face. He shifted from foot to foot, looked up at Rogers, and surged up to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him. 

Rogers went very red. “Buck- wait, no - mmph - sto-” He tried to pull him off, but from the look of it, Barnes wasn’t prepared to let go if he didn’t have to. He also looked to be quite talented at using his tongue. Loki howled with laughter.

It took a few minutes, but finally Roger’s managed to get his hand between him and Barnes, clamped over his mouth. “Bucky! Stop! Be good!” He shot Loki an embarrassed, frantic look. “What’s wrong with him? Is he still drugged?”

Loki managed to wipe his tears away. “Hardly,” he sniggered. “They say that you should never give children a taste of sweets or they’ll always want them. You gave HIM the entire cheesecake.”

Roger’s expression made up for the earlier tackle. “Come,” he laughed, turning away and striding across the grass again, hand beckoned for them to follow. “Follow your oath and bring your lover. The greatest adventure of your paltry little lives awaits you.”

It was a pretty good exit line, he thought. Pretty good indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

They walked for over an hour, the two men following Loki across the gentle, rolling hills. They'd dressed first, not that that was saying much. Neither of them had shoes, Steve's socks didn't do him any good without footwear, and Bucky kept tripping over the too long legs of his pants. He was still shirtless, which was incredibly distracting for Steve, but not so distracting as Bucky apparently found HIM to be when Steve first urged his own shirt on the man. 

Loki hadn't been any help in peeling the energetically friendly sniper off of him. He found the whole situation hysterical.

Bucky hummed as he walked, his left hand tangled in the back of Steve's shirt and content to not pay any attention to where they were going so long as Steve didn't walk him into anything uncomfortable. The constant touch of his metal fingers against his back was reassuring and so Steve kept his own focus on Loki.

He hadn't told them precisely what he wanted Steve for - he assumed that as far as Loki was concerned, Bucky was along for a free ride so Steve wouldn't worry about him. All Steve knew was that they were supposed to steal something that belonged to Loki back for him. He wouldn't say why he couldn't just steal it himself. 

For the moment at least, Steve had no other choice but to play along. He wasn't in favour of theft, but he had given his oath. Still, if Loki wanted him to get something he'd use to use to hurt people, he was going to find his plans failing on him very quickly.

Even if he assured them the object wasn't a threat, Steve wasn't going to trust him. Mama Rogers hadn't raised any idiots and trusting the God of Lies was stupid. The only thing that Steve did trust about him so far was his promise that if Steve betrayed him, he would pay for it.

More telling, Loki swore that Bucky would.

Ahead of them was the crest of another hill and as they crossed it, Steve saw more hills on the other side. It was a beautiful place, but with the tonic Loki gave them worn off, it wasn't ethereally so. It was just pretty and there was no sign of any sort of human habitation. Asgardian habitation?

"How far do we have to walk?" Steve asked. At some point they were going to get hungry and he hadn't seen anything he recognized as edible so far. "And why did you bring us out into the middle of nowhere anyway?"

"Because the middle of nowhere is where the door to your Midgardian New York lies," Loki told him, sounding bored and a bit put out. He didn't strike Steve as the type who liked to do a lot of walking. 

Steve stopped and Bucky walked into his back - then decided he liked it there and looped his arms around Steve's waist. 

"Coulson told us that we weren't going to be stored in New York."

Loki turned to walk along the top of the hill's crest and gave him a bored look. "Your point?"

"We're frozen for centuries and you come get us in New York?"

Loki waved a languid hand. If he'd just been caught in a lie, he didn't show it. "Do you think doors to your world are so common I can go just anywhere? Please." He stepped deliberately over a large tuft of grass with purple flowers growing out of it and vanished.

Steve tensed. The second he did, Bucky went from snuggling against his back to standing in front of him, knife and gun in hand. 

"Give," Steve told him and took the gun without Bucky making a sound of protest. Armed, he moved carefully towards where Loki had disappeared. Bucky took the other side, perfectly silent in the grass even with the dragging pant legs. 

There was no sign of Loki anywhere. No sign either of whatever took him, if that's what it was, or where he'd gone. Steve moved past the tuft of grass the Asgardian had stepped over, senses stretched to their limit to pick up anything-

-and he was in a room filled with leather saddles and other tack and the smell of horses and saddle soap.

Loki sat on a chest against the wall, examining his nails for dirt and not even looking up at Steve when he pointed the gun straight at his head. 

"What happened?" he demanded. "Where are we?"

Loki flicked a bit of dirt out from under his fingernail with a moue of disgust. "What happened is you stepped through the doorway between that unimpressive little piece of real estate and here, and now you are in the Asgardian royal stables, since, obviously, that is where it led." 

"Bucky!" Steve gasped and turned around to see only bare wall with a series of hooks on it that bridles hung from. It was solid when he touched it. "Send me back!"

"Whatever for?" Loki sounded baffled.

"Bucky! He's all alone! He needs me!"

"For what? A blow job?"

Steve spun and pointed the gun at him again. "Send. Me. Back."

He never had to find out if Loki would actually acquiesce, because suddenly Bucky was there, knife raised in a ready position and a furious, terrified look on his face. He saw Steve and threw himself into his arms.

"There," Loki mock soothed. "He found the door. Yay."

"You disappeared," Bucky whispered against Steve's neck. "I followed you."

Steve hugged him back. "I'm glad you did," he told him and glared at Loki. "Why didn't you just tell us about this door?"

"And WHERE would be the fun in THAT?" He shook his head and stood. "Mortals... so stupid. Wait here."

"Where are you going?" Steve asked.

"So suspicious too." Loki turned and spread his arms with a grin. "As our little sojourn is of an illicit nature, I do not wish all of the stable hands and grooms to see you. More importantly, I do not wish them to see ME, so the All-Father is going to give them cause to be somewhere else. Wait here. Keep quiet. Do not try to go back through that door. It closed and the only thing on the other side of that wall is a pile of manure." With that, he turned and walked out the tack room's door, already shimmering into the shorter, stockier image of the All-Father. 

Once he was gone, Steve stepped back out of Bucky's embrace and cupped his face with his hands so he could lift it and look into his eyes. "Hey, how are you doing?" he asked. Bucky hadn't heard any of the stories about Asgard. He didn't know that Thor was an actual god or alien or whatever, or that Asgard was real. Steve hadn't wanted to confuse him and even Thor agreed and kept his origins quiet. Bucky's life was easier the simpler it was. 

There was nothing simple about any of this and probably stress had Bucky's eyes unfocused and dim. The sex certainly hadn't helped with his equilibrium and Steve cursed himself for being a desperate fool. 

"Buck," he soothed while he rubbed his cheekbones with his thumbs. "Come on, Buck. I need you to watch my six, so you got to be here with me right now."

"Trying," Bucky whispered after a minute, even as his eyes cast around at everything he saw, all of it out of context from what he was used to. Unless it was losing Steve for those few seconds that caused his mind to scatter again. Steve knew it scared the absolute hell out of him. 

"You can do it, Buck," Steve said and kissed him on the forehead, his lips lingering as Bucky made a small sound and pushed up into the touch. Steve kissed his closed eyes.

Steve had no idea if what they'd done together was going to turn out to be healthy or disastrous in the long run, but it was done now and all they had was each other. So he let himself press a long, gentle kiss to Bucky's lips and felt the smaller man finally relax against him. 

They were still moving their mouths against one another, sharing their breath and brushed the sensitive tips of their tongue together every once in a while when Loki came back, still in the illusion of Odin.

"This is getting to be a habit," he said. "Should I come back in five minutes so you can be naked and inside him? We have time."

Steve jumped back, blushing, as Loki shifted to his usual form with a leer that turned into a grimace when he yanked his hand up and caught Bucky's knife with the point only an inch from his eye.

"Does he need a leash?" he snapped.

Steve didn't answer, just stepped forward and held his hand out for the knife. Loki sniffed and slapped it down into his hand. "I have cleared the stable and I have equipment for you. I took the liberty of also gathering your combat gear when I collected you and I have made some improvements that will be of use."

"Really?" Steve asked, surprised, and Loki stepped back with a grand gesture for Steve to precede him out of the room. He did, Bucky at his back.

The stable for the Asgardian royal horses was just as impressive and filled with decorative details as the palace Steve visited. The stalls for the horses were all huge, each of them easily larger than the apartment Steve and Bucky shared before the war. Steve only gave it enough of a strategic look to make sure it was clear of danger before he turned his attention to a table set against the opposite wall.

Loki had brought their combat gear, including, to Steve's delight, his shield. Far less pleasing was the sight of Bucky's goggles and muzzle.

"I would take those," Loki pointed out when Steve went to hide them while Bucky was dressing in the rest of his black outfit. Steve shot him a look and Loki smirked at him. "If you wish him to be able to breathe, that is. I modified the mask, just as I modified your helmet. There is not always a supply of fresh, usable air for humans where you two are going."

"Oh." Steve set the mask down again and pulled his uniform to him. It was the new one, the dark blue outfit designed by SHIELD; flexible, protective, and strong. It felt as if Loki had made it even stronger and installed some sort of control panel along the sleeves. "Where are we going, Loki?"

He looked over at where Loki stood next to an opulent stall. A beautiful grey horse had its head over the stall door and Loki stroked its satin muzzle, what seemed to Steve to be a sad smirk on his face. 

"Once, the man who deigned to call himself my father cast me out of Asgard. I fell through the branches of the world tree and even my magic was barely enough to preserve me. The world tree grows throughout dimensions and I cast up on the shores at last in a place in the same universe as your Earth, but many, many galaxies distant, among peoples who would not be so kind to you as I have been and wished recompense for their assistance."

Steve stilled, dressed in his uniform with his helmet held before him in both hands. It felt heavier than before as he studied the self-styled God. Bucky ignored their conversation behind him, happily loading himself up with weapons.

"Would this be about the time you invaded Earth?" he asked.

"Why, yes!" Loki said with a rather manic grin. His eyes were bright and dangerous. Steve forced himself not to tense up. This was a bad time for Bucky to go on the attack.

"You're sending me and Bucky halfway across the universe to steal something from the Chitauri?"

"Not the Chitauri." There was something almost pained in Loki's expression as he rubbed between the horse's eyes. "There are no more Chitauri. I send you for that used to birth the Chitauri."

"What?" Steve blinked. "Some sort of machine?"

"No, not a machine." Loki turned away from the stall, hands clenched at his side. "A sack, if you will. Of flesh. It is kept in a... the closest you would call it is a beaker. It is a container made of something like glass."

"A sack," Steve repeated. "The Chitauri were made from a sack. That you want us to recover."

"It is mine!" Loki thundered and Steve felt Bucky tense behind him, now armed with enough firepower to level an army. Loki appeared to realize it and sulked. "It is mine, stolen from me. I want it back before Thanos breeds any more armies from it. Before he finds a way to climb the world tree and sends them against my people here."

"I didn't get the impression that you cared all that much for the people here," Steve said, "given you call them buffoons and the like."

Loki tossed his head. "They are still mine and I will guard and guide them. Do not seek to judge me, Captain. Do your duty. Bring back my property and be cautious not to be caught while you do so. Thanos is not an enemy that you can defeat."

"Who is Thanos?"

"The enemy of life," Loki told him. "The destroyer of all. He takes life and corrupts it, breaks it to his bidding." Loki turned back to the stall and the waiting horse. "Find him, find my property, but do not face him."

It wasn't much of a mission brief, but from the tension and borderline madness in Loki's tone, it sounded like the best he was going to get. "How do we get to him?" he asked. "Another of these doors of yours?"

"Indeed." Loki smirked over his shoulder at him. "Several of them, actually. You will have to cross many universes. There is no direct route and no door at all for the final leg. That one you shall have to travel yourselves. I care not. I shall get you as far as I can."

"How?" Steve asked, liking this entire mission even less than before.

Loki laughed, loud and clear as he unlatched the stall door and swung it wide to let out the horse, a massive, mottled grey beast who strode out before them on eight separate legs.

"Why, Captain, you and your paramour get to ride there."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go. Future updates might or might not be slower than you've been used to. The muse is a finicky troll.

"This is Sleipnir," Loki declared, his voice grandiose as he swept his arm around to encompass the entirety of the dark, dappled grey horse. Except for the excess number of legs, it reminded Steve of an Andalusian, a breed he only knew about thanks to the Science channel on television.

"Sleipnir will bear you on your journey," Loki told them.

"Are you serious?" Steve blurted.

Loki's face darkened. "Yes, I am serious. My son can take you by secret passages along the world tree to the quadrant where Thanos reigns."

"Your son," Steve repeated, feeling a bit stupid. He'd made sure to read the myths about Loki and Thor after the battle in New York, but he hadn't ever thought the one about Loki giving birth to an actual horse was true.

"He has your nose," Bucky said to Loki with a cheeky grin that likely came near to getting him turned into a frog.

Steve stepped between the two men before anything like that could happen. Now that he knew the horse aspect of that myth was true, he remembered the rest of the myth as well, and if THAT was all true, then Loki had a damn good reason to hate Odin and a lot of justification for not ever wanting his choices taken away from him again.

"Thank you," was all he said. "We'll take good care of him."

Loki eyed Steve as if wondering where the mockery was and finally sniffed, turning away. "I have food bags for him to carry, and he will of course carry the two of you, but Sleipnir will wear no saddle nor bit." 

Steve, who'd never ridden a horse in his life and was pretty sure it was nothing like riding a motorcycle, looked at the horse's broad back with trepidation. "What if we fall off?"

"I would recommend you don't. Especially between worlds." Loki carefully slung a padded strap across the stallion's withers that had large, leather bags strapped to it. 

Steve took up his shield and attached it to the harness on his back. "And what happens when we've found this device of yours? What guarantees do we have that we won't be abandoned on the other side of the galaxy?"

Loki smirked at him. "None. You have no guarantees at all, save the one where I have no reason to see you dead. You swore yourself to me and I do believe that you are the first person I have ever encountered who truly means to keep his oath." He strode closer, lithe and amused. "Even should you take offence at my actions and seek to betray me, I think that you would do so in such a way that you would still serve me. I find that... interesting. Odd. Stupid."

"Honourable?" Steve added.

"So you say." Loki turned back. "Time passes, Captain. The route is long and dangerous. Ride my son and keep him safe. Find my property and that act alone will serve your world in the end, for it could not be used then against it."

"And you won't use it against us?" Steve asked.

Loki smirked again over his shoulder as he headed for the stable doors, already shimmering into the shape of Odin so that it was a grey-bearded smile that Steve saw. "It is not something that I would use as a weapon. It is far too precious to me. There, I have said at least one thing today that is the truth complete. Good speed to you, Captain. You and your berserker both." With that, he was gone.

Steve sighed. "Why do I think this isn't going to be any fun at all?" he wondered as he turned back to Sleipnir and stopped. In the time while he'd been talking to Loki, Bucky had mounted the eight-legged animal and sat gripping its mane with both hands and its sides with his knees as if he'd been riding all his life.

"Hey!" Steve complained, his hands on his hips. "What makes you think you get to be in front?"

"You snooze, you lose."

Steve laughed and crossed over to the horse's side. Sleipnir eyed him but didn't do anything other than placidly stand there as Steve gripped Bucky's offered hand and jumped up onto its back. It might have resembled an Andalusian, but it was big enough to be a very large Percheron. His seat on that wide, bony back was... interesting. Bucky immediately leaned back against him and hummed happily.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now I wish Loki didn't like to be obscure," Steve muttered. "Uh, we're ready?" he said to Sleipnir, without any idea if the animal could understand him, son of a god or not.

Sleipnir apparently could. The horse gave a low snort and started to walk. The sudden swaying motion of eight legs was a surprise, but it was also very smooth once the animal was going and Steve shared the smile Bucky gave him.

"I never rode a horse before." Bucky's smile reversed itself. "I don't think. I don't remember. Have I ever ridden a horse?"

"Nope," Steve assured him. He had his arms around Bucky's waist and he gave him a quick hug. "I've never ridden one either. None with four legs and certainly none with eight."

Sleipnir chuffed at that and turned down an aisle of stalls. Horses with smaller heads than his looked over their stall doors as the grey passed, whickering and stamping their hooves. Steve wasn't sure if they were upset that the big horse was leaving or jealous they didn't get to come along.

Ahead was a closed outer door, one large enough for horses to be led out but obviously not the main exit. Steve was just wondering if he'd have to dismount to open it when Sleipnir tossed its head. The doors swung open with a low creak. Steve's eyebrows rose, but he didn't have much time to consider how the horse did that. Sleipnir stepped outside and with another toss of its head and a shrill whinny, it began to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding that I really love to write Loki's dialogue. It's fun.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a while since I posted anything. Been busy and the muses keep making a break for it. I know where I'm going with this, I just can't necessarily budget the time when there are other things I have to procrastinate on getting done first.
> 
> This has had a half-assed editing job. Sorry.

Sleipnir ran.

Steve Rogers had never ridden a horse before, and after this, he was pretty sure he could still say with great certainty that he still hadn’t, because Sleipnir was nothing like a horse. He thundered across the ground, muscles moving underneath his skin as he raced through the city, and as he ran, the city itself blurred, a flicker here and there before the scenery changed, as if the animal were suddenly elsewhere.

Bucky whooped in absolute excitement, arms raised in triumph, and Steve hung onto him in a fear he would fall that was almost but not quite enough to staunch the pure exhilaration running through his own body. Natasha had informed him once that he was an adrenaline junkie, and Steve had to agree with her. He had all his usual noble reasons for going to war, but there was nothing as good as the rush going through his body in combat or right now. 

Well, there was the feeling of the body in front of him bare and pressed against his, that was better, but Steve shoved the thought down. They had a mission and he needed to keep everything as simple for Bucky during it as he could. Any regression now could get them both killed and there was definitely no backup coming. Not this time.

Five hundred years. He prayed to God that Loki was just screwing with them about that.

Sleipnir reached the edge of a city as large as Manhattan in less than a minute, leaping down a wide staircase to an ornate dock leading out into the blue waters surrounding Asgard. He didn’t hesitate at the edge, galloping instead straight out along the top of the water and Bucky’s laughter when he did was wonderful.

The huge grey didn’t stop at the edge of the water where it dropped off into endless night either. He kept running, hooves churning through stardust and then, something shifted.

It wasn’t as instant as the step into the stable, or the blips through the city. This must have been a much greater distance, and Steve felt the edges of his face mask close around his mouth, nose, and eyes with some sort of energy field. Then the world went fully dark, lit only by the gleam of Sleipnir’s grey hide.

Bucky looked back at him, his long hair tossing around his head. He had the visor and muzzle on and Steve could tell he was confused as he reached up to remove them. Steve caught his hand. “No, Buck. Leave t on. I don’t think there’s any air here.” Bucky made a confused sound and looked at Sleipnir. “I don’t think he needs any.”

Sleipnir tossed his head, maybe in agreement, and the world changed again. He dropped, Steve’s stomach rising up into his throat before the huge animal landed on solid ground and was immediately running again. 

The world had changed again. Above them, entire galaxies chased across a sky Steve didn’t recognize and the landscape was different.

It was dark, grey, cold, ice and snow mixed with rock. Nothing green grew and even though whatever Loki did to his uniform protected him from it, Steve could tell it was beyond cold. 

Ahead of them, blue-skinned giants were rising, looking towards them with outraged, red eyes. Sleipnir screamed a challenge and the giants started yelling, icy blades growing out of their very skin as they charged. Sleipnir lowered his head and ran straight for them. 

Bucky never hesitated. He drew machine pistols with both hands and started shooting past Sleipnir’s head, the stallion never slowing as the Winter Soldier shot the frost giants, his bullets shattering ice and imbedding in blue bodies, shedding blue blood. Sleipnir’s scream was triumphant. 

A moment later, they were through them and Sleipnir galloped down a deep gully, the giants left behind so quickly that they may as well have been standing still. 

Something crashed out of the ice behind them and gave chase. Steve looked back and saw a beast big enough to swallow even Sleipnir, and fast enough to gain on the stallion as well with a lumbering, bear-like gait that didn’t look like it should be as fast as it was.

“A little bit more speed would be good!” he shouted, even as he started judging trajectories to throw his shield and actually get it back. 

Bucky looked to see what was behind them and made an interested sound. Then he tossed his legs up, managed to turn around with a degree of flexibility that Steve firmly told himself he should not be turned on by, and was abruptly face to face with him, sitting in Steve’s lap with his thighs over Steve’s and their hips pressed together.

It was just as distracting as Steve would have imagined.

Bucky pressed against Steve, his chin hooked over his shoulder, and started firing at the monster behind them, concentrating his ammunition into its open mouth and at its eyes. Steve hung onto him and tried to watch for more attackers.

The monster screamed, tossing its head up in unexpected pain and stopping, long tail lashing against the cliff wall so hard it dislodged stone from it. Sleipnir galloped around a corner in the gully and leaped over an outcrop of icy spikes that could have disembowelled him if he’d cleared them any less well. 

Bucky straightened, hair flying around his face and arms bent, pistols pointed up at the sky on either side of his head as he looked at Steve. He was close enough that Steve could see the smile in his eyes through the tinted glass of his visor. 

“Good shooting,” Steve grinned at him.

Bucky’s response was to grind down against Steve’s lap. Steve yelped and he laughed.

The world changed again, back to the darkness and cold even deeper than the place they’d just left. Steve was just trying to figure out how to get Bucky turned around again without him falling when they were suddenly in a world again and he was so shocked he nearly fell off the horse himself.

This world was fire, volcanic and explosive, and Sleipnir was galloping across the surface of a lava flow, flame kicking up around his hooves with every step. Geysers erupted everywhere around them, raining fire, and Steve could almost believe there were people trying to crawl out of that fire, all of them screaming in agony.

Bucky clung to Steve, shaking and terrified. Steve held him back as tightly as he dared, his libido well gone. They were crossing worlds touched by the World Tree, Loki said, taking a shortcut through different universes as far as Steve could understand. There were a number of worlds said to be on the world tree, most of which Steve didn’t know. Norse mythology hadn’t been a common subject back in school in the thirties. But he remembered the planet of the frost giants and he remembered this one. Hel. Place of the dishonoured dead. Hell. 

He’d brought Bucky to Hell.

“Get us out of here!” he shouted at Sleipnir and the stallion screamed. He refused to think this place was truly Hell, he utterly refused, but if Bucky got that idea in his head… He’d already been in Hell. Steve wouldn’t let him see it again. 

Sleipnir galloped across the lake of lava, never slowing. Steve kept Bucky’s face pressed against his chest, reassuring him that it was just a joke, just a pretend place they were going through and they’d be out in a minute, not sure if the man understood his words right now or just the sound of his voice. Bucky clung to him regardless. Shivering. At least he didn’t look and so he didn’t see the shapes of bodies in the flames, eternally burning, of the winged things flying in the air above, soaring on the heat, or even a woman dressed in green, beautiful on one side and decayed on the other, who raised a hand in greeting as Sleipnir passed, mouth raised in a loving, twisted smile.

Sleipnir ran towards a wall of pure flame and the world changed a third time to that in-between nothingness. Bucky was a shivering weight in Steve’s arms. “We have to stop!” Steve shouted at the horse. “Somewhere with air. We have to stop!” Sleipnir flicked an ear and then they were somewhere again, on the edge of cliff overlooking a barren valley, the sky orange chased with green, the rock a dusty, soft grey. Sleipnir stopped and tossed his head, pawing at the ground with an impatient hoof. 

Desperately hoping that the horse wouldn’t decide to run off again without them, Steve slid down off his back, bringing Bucky with him. The smaller man was limp, shocky, withdrawn from stress in the way Steve had only seen a few times and hated. Bucky had gone through so much that his mind could only take so much strain before it snapped and regardless of the danger, when that was close to happening, his entire body shut down instead to keep that final snap from happening. 

Riding an eight-legged horse into Hell apparently qualified as ‘way too fucking much.’

Steve laid Bucky down on the ground and pulled off his helmet to test the air before he removed Bucky’s visor and mask. Bucky’s eyes were half shut and glassy, definitely closed off from everything. 

Steve laid down next to and against him, letting Bucky feel the touch of his body. “Hey, Buck, come back. You had a bad dream. It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here.” He pulled off his gloves and stroked his cheeks, whispering to him without pause. “I’m right here. I promise. It’s safe here. Come on, Buck, talk to me.”

Sleipnir wandered over, head low to the ground, and Steve looked up at him as he shuffled his soft lips over Bucky’s mouth and eyes and blew a sweet breath in his face.

Bucky blinked and woke up. “Stevie?” 

Whatever it was Sleipnir just did, Steve was keeping him. “Hey, how are you doing?” he cheered. “Enjoy your nap?”

Bucky frowned up at him, cranky. “No. Bad dreams. I don’t like them.” He sat up and looked around. “What the fuck?”

Steve winced. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. We’re on a mission, remember?”

Bucky looked at him and then shrugged. “Okay,” he agreed and stood so he could stroke Sleipnir’s nose, who seemed to like the attention quite a bit. 

Steve stood as well and went to check the stallion’s saddlebags. Now that the adrenaline rush was ending, he was starting to get hungry and he knew Bucky’s appetite was just as strong as his. He opened the first one and looked in to see it was filled to the brim with horse food. That made sense, so he went to the second. It was full of horse food too.

“Aw, crap,” he muttered. Typical Loki. Feed his son, starve his workers. He dug through the pellets, just to see if there was any human food, and was rewarded with two separate bags, one larger than the other.

Neither had food. The first one had bits of some sort of unidentifiable metal and a note in beautifully cursive writing. 

 

This money will ease your way. 

Be sparing. There is enough here

to either buy all the help you

require or get your throat slit.

Loki

 

Well, if nothing else, it should let them buy food once they found a place that sold it. At least Loki thought about their comfort that much. A bit reassured, Steve opened the second, smaller bag.

It was full of condoms and lube.

Steve turned red and shoved it back to the bottom of the food bag before Bucky could see it.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleipnir ran until Steve didn't know if he'd ever be able to feel his ass again. He ran through worlds and across space, sometimes with nothing more than floating dust to set his hooves against.

Afraid of where they'd end up if he dared to close his eyes, Steve stayed awake, but Bucky didn't seem to share the same reservations. Steve didn't know if that was because he'd decided he was dreaming all of this strangeness or if in his mind, anything that wasn't Hydra wasn't worth worrying about, but he was asleep against Steve's back, his arms loosely wrapped around his waist in the trust that Steve wouldn't let him fall.

That trust definitely wasn't misplaced. Steve had a deathgrip on his metal arm that probably had his own knuckles white inside his gloves. 

Sleipnir's gait changed, a sign he was going to move through realities or whatever it was he did again. Steve wasn't sure that even Bruce and Tony together could explain it. 

The shifting landscape around them went black for a moment and then they were in a city, one with pristinely clean streets and elegant architecture, the buildings seemingly as delicate as gossamer, even as they rose higher into the sky than anything back in New York. There were no vehicles on the road, everyone either on foot or in quiet, airborne transports that looked as delicate as the buildings. If Steve hadn't had so much else on his mind, he would have wanted to stop and draw some of it. 

The massive stallion slowed from a gallop to a walk, snorting and tossing his head. None of the people looked as if the sight of an eight-legged horse was unusual, but then most of them had pink or blue skin and other features that were even less human. 

It seemed they'd reached their destination, a sentiment that Sleipnir expressed by sitting down on his haunches and tumbling them both off of his back. 

Both men landed on their feet, Bucky wide awake with a pistol in each hand. Steve put a hand on his shoulder before he decided to try shooting anyone. "Easy, Bucky. I think this is as far as Sleipnir can bring us." He looked at Sleipnir, not sure yet how intelligent the horse was, but he was supposed to be Loki's son. "Is that it?" he asked him. 

In what Steve hoped was an attempt at communication, Sleipnir tossed his head up and down and then turned his neck so that he could reach the bags on his back, somehow nosed one open, and began to eat.

Bucky looked around. "What is this place?" he asked.

"I don't know," Steve said. "But we should be able to find a ship." It was pretty obvious that there were transports here pushing all the way into space. Tony would have loved it, or started bragging about how he could do it better. 

Not sure where he was supposed to find a ship, or even if they were going to be able to communicate with anyone in this place, Steve started to walk. Bucky immediately fell in at his side, but somewhat to Steve's surprise, Sleipnir did as well. Loki hadn't said he would stay once he took them as far as he could, but then there was a lot Loki hadn't said. 

"Everyone's funny looking," Bucky observed. He looked around curiously, his expression calm and even happy. The fact that they were on an alien planet surrounded by, well, aliens, didn't bother him. That reassured Steve as well, on a lot of levels. Bucky wasn't the man he'd been before he fell. The damage he'd suffered over seventy years of abuse left him with the mental and emotional capacity of a child, but he'd lost none of the skill of the Winter Soldier. If he didn't feel threatened at all, then at least for the moment, they were in no danger. When it came to that, Bucky had better instincts than Steve.

"Excuse me?" he said to one pink-skinned... he thought it was a woman. Maybe?

Whatever she was, she gave him a pleasant smile and trilled something multi-syllabic and definitely inhuman before she continued on her way.

Bucky tilted his head to one side with a frown. "I don't think I could make that out," he said. Sleipnir gave a snort that almost sounded like agreement.

Steve sighed. "Whatever they speak here, it definitely isn't English." He led the two of them over to a nearby building that from the look of it was either a bar or a holding pen for animals. "I have no idea how Loki expects us to have any kind of chance at this."

The door dematerialized and he led the way into what actually was a bar, filled with what were definitely a wide variety of decidedly inhuman creatures.

With one exception. A sandy-haired young man in a red coat froze with his drink held just below his mouth, his wide eyes locked on Steve in his iconic Captain America uniform in absolute shocked recognition. 

He leaped out of his chair, hurdled the table, landed on his face, jumped up, and ran over to Steve.

"Captain America!" he enthused in English. "Oh wow! You're Captain America! I've got some of your comic books in my ship! I knew you had to really be some sort of alien!" He hurried past him to look outside while Bucky and Sleipnir watched him in bemusement. The sandy-haired man ignored them while he looked excitedly around. 

"Did you bring Elvis too?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, Loki lied. I'm evil. You knew that.
> 
> I've been holding onto that Elvis joke for months. Here's hoping someone laughs.


	6. Chapter 6

Considering it was actually such a small vessel, the ship Peter Quill and his crew called home had a pretty decent amount of space in it. 

shot, decent didn't leave much room for a giant, eight legged stallion.

''Thank you for inviting us on board and introducing us to your crew," Steve said politely. While Peter was human, at least as far as Steve could tell, none of his crew were.

Gamora was a green woman with multi coloured hair and fine ridges on her face. She had enough weapons on her to give even Bucky envy and reminded Steve a lot of Natasha with her calm certainty. She'd greeted Steve politely enough, but she seemed unwilling to take her eyes off of Bucky where he sat in a corner chair with his knees drawn up and an apparent determination to pay no attention to anything that was going onaround him. She also looked reluctant to take her hand off the hilt of her sword.

Next to her was a broad, heavyset, apparently male alien. He was completely hairless but also covered with raised markings, all of them intricately elaborate. They were beautiful, but Steve couldnt decide if they were natural or deliberately placed there. Peter had introduced him as Drax and he also stared at Bucky with enough belligerence that Steve was afraid that Bucky was going to get nervous and start murdering people. For the moment he seemed calm, or else so disoriented by everything that he'd shut down. Steve honestly didn't know and didn't dare turn his attentions from the current negotiations in order to check. 

The third number of the crew was a bipedal racoon named Rocket, which Steve would have been more disturbed by if he hadn't just ridden halfway across the galaxy on a horse and if the last crewmember hadn't been a potted plant called Groot.

''Hey, it's my pleasure!" Peter was saying. "I mean. you're Captain America! Everyone's thrilled you're here. Right, guys?"

"Why should I care?" Rocket asked. 

"Do not think to tell me how I feel," Drax growled, eyes still fixed on Bucky, who was starting to take notice.

"Is he a hero like your Kevin Bacon?" Gamora asked. 

"I am Groot," squeaked the plant.

"See?" Peter grinned. "They're as pleased as I am."

"I am not pleased," Drax snapped and his glare at Bucky took on a tone of true hostility. "This one armed creature looked at me in the drinking establishment and I could see him evaluating all of my strengths and weaknesses. He looked upon me as a being ready for combat."

"Uh, yeah, he does that," Steve managed. "He doesn't mean it though."

"Yes, he does," Gamora disagreed. "He's obviously bred for war."

"Him?" Peter said, gesturing at Bucky, who'd gone back to ignoring all of them again and was poking at some sort of wood panelled device imbedded in the wall. "He's harmless. Look at him! Look at his face!" He threw an arm around Bucky's shoulder and pressed his cheek against his, hand pushing Buck's cheeks together so they were both making the same duck expression. "How could you think a face like this is dangerous?"

Steve tensed, waiting for the outbreak of violence.

''You're an idiot, Quill," Rocket said. 

"I am Groot," Groot agreed, just in time for Sleipnir to wander over to him and start grazing. "I am Groot!" he screamed. 

It took a while before things calmed down again. 

###

"So," Peter said sometime later, all of them now around a table in the lower level, except for Sleipnir who couldn't handle the ladder. Rocket had the somewhat chewed looking Groot's pot in his lap. Gamora and Drax were still glaring at Bucky, who'd decided to keep ignormig all of them, lean his head on Steve's shoulder, and go to sleep. "What brings you out here, Cap?"

Hopefully, this group could help them. "We were sent by an Asgardian named Loki," Steve admitted, "to retrieve something stolen from him by a being called Thanos." 

Steve had no idea who Thanos was, but their reaction let him know exactly how dangerous the man they'd been sent to steal from must be. Gamora went absolutely still, her chin lifted and her muscles tight. Peter and Rocket stared at him, their jaws hanging open.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked. 

Drax slammed his fists down on the table. his eyes gleaming. Bucky started awake and made a confused sound. "At last! We will track down that murderer and I will see vengeance for my wife and daughter!"

Rocket buried his face in his hands and groaned. "This is all going to turn into a shit show again, isn't it?"

"I am Groot!" Groot agreed.

Steve shifted his shoulders to ease some of the tension in them. "I gather you've heard about this person?"

Peter rubbed the back of his head. "Um, yeah."

Gamora gave a better laugh. "Anyone who seeks out Thanos seeks only death. My father will take you and grind you to dust, even if you are as great a warrior as Kevin Bacon."

''Your father?" Steve repeated in surprise.

Her face twisted. "In his mind. He took me and made me what I am. It was... unpleasant."

Bucky nudged Steve's shoulder. "Stevie, am I gonna wake up soon?"

Suddenly, negotiations could wait. Steve turned in his chair to face his friend, hands raised to brush the hair away from Bucky's face. "what do you mean, sweetheart? You are awake."

Bucky's expression turned confused. "But we... I saw things, places that can't exist. People that aren't people. I don't know if it's a dream I'm having or if it's a nightmare. I want to wake up."

It was too much for him to absorb, too much for him to take in with his battered senses. Steve wrapped his arms around him and Bucky made a sound like a sob against his chest.

Steve looked at Peter. "Is there somewhere he can lie down?" 

Peter nodded. "Yeah, we've got some fold down bunks in the back."

Steve led Bucky back there. "It'll be alright," Steve promised as he tucked him in. Bucky had slept more than Steve had in the last few days, but Steve doubted the quality of any of it had been very good. "I know everything's strange, but I think we might have found some friends and I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere without you."

Bucky smiled up at him. "Promise?" 

Steve stroked his cheek. "Promise."

Steve didn't return to the table for about twenty minutes, after Bucky fell asleep. Peter's crew was in the middle of a heated argument that ended once Steve arrived. 

''So...'' Peter said with a grin. "Uh... how's things?"

''Fuck that," Rocket growled. "I want to know what's up with the dude with the low grade metal arm making Gamora and Drax nervous one minute and then wailing for his momma the next."

"I was not nervous," Drax said and frowned at Peter. "I also wasn't aware the males of your species were capable of giving birth. Does this mean you may have children you are too cowardly to tell us about?"

Peter blinked. "Uh, what?"

"Back to the point?" Rocket snapped. "Spill."

Steve sighed. He wasn't surprised this was coming up, but he wasn't going to air all of Bucky's dirty secrets either. He'd just say enough to keep Gamora and Drax from seeing Bucky as some kind of threat.

"Bucky is my best friend," he told them. That he was also his lover was definitely something he was going to keep to himself. "He was captured by these... people. They brutalized and modified him to become a weapon. I got him out of there, but they'd broken his mind so severely the he's either the weapon or he's like a small child." He hoped they accepted that. 

They did. "Huh," Rocket said. "Sounds familiar." Gamora nodded in agreement.

"The mind of a child," Drax frowned. "That is a poor fate for a warrior."

"Just be kind to him," Steve asked. "He's frightened by all of this." He looked at Peter again. "I don't want to face this Thanos person directly. I just want to get Loki's property back so that I can take Bucky home."

"Yeah,'' Peter hedged. "You see, even indirectly, going up against Thanos isn't a safe bet. You'd need a pretty good incentive to get anyone to risk that."

Steve took the money bag Loki lift for them and dumped it out onto the table. "I have this."

The crew gaped at it, eyes wide. 

"I am Groot," Groot breathed.

"It's at least that much," Rocket agreed. ''Maybe more."

Peter looked up and grinned. "Captain America, you've got yourself a crew!"


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky stumbled out of the cramped sleeping area with its fold out bunks, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The hum of the ship was a barely felt vibration underneath his feet, barefoot since he hadn’t bothered to pull on either his boots or the heavy kevlar coat of his combat suit.

Steve was asleep in the bunk above the one Bucky woke up in, the green woman in the one opposite him. He was pretty sure she was green and also pretty sure that wasn’t normal either. He just wasn’t sure if the problem was with her or with him.

The fog was thicker than normal, his thoughts slow as sludge as he tried to think through the miasma of delirium. Everything was too ‘not right’, too far from the schedule Steve gave him, which had always made everything so much more predictable and easy to deal with.

At least Steve was here, unlike last time when he put his knife through the hand of the friend with the soft voice, and dove through the window to attack the friend with the metal suit and the friend with the hair. He hadn’t thought they were friends at that moment, just that they were a threat he couldn’t understand and that they kept him from what he wanted. He didn’t remember they were friends until later, when he felt bad at what he’d done.

Now Steve said that these people were his friends too. He trusted Steve. He liked Steve. He wanted Steve. He’d do what he could to fight the fog and keep Steve happy. Bucky didn’t like that line he got between his eyebrows when he was sad. It was always Bucky’s fault, he knew that. He could just never remember why.

He wandered into the room with the table they’d been at the night before. Was it the night before? He didn’t see any windows to help him tell and somehow he suspected windows wouldn’t help any. It was an empty room now, except for the wiggly weed in the pot, set in the centre of the table. It – he? – was flailing his limbs, squeaking “I am Groot!” repeatedly at the big stallion currently struggling to climb backwards down the ladder from above, despite a complete lack of anything resembling hands or feet.

“I am Groot!” Groot shrieked in indignity.

“Whff,” Sleipnir retorted.

Bucky tilted his head to one side. There was something else there, something he could hear on the edges of his own mind’s inability to properly organize his thoughts.

“I

Puerile egregious burro

“Am

Accost me and writhe

“Groot!

In torment that is harrowing and incessant.”

Sleipnir edged a leg out of one rung and careful threaded it through the one below before lowering himself another foot, whickering out a comment of his own in response.

 

  
**“SALAD”**

Groot was flapping his limbs so hard that if he’d had more leaves on them, he probably would have gone airborne.

“I

Supposititious baseborn mongrel

“Am

Drive yourself afar

“Groot!

With voluminous immersion in wretchedness!”

Sleipnir made it down another rung, nostrils flaring at the plant.

 

**“FUCK YOU TOO.”**

Bucky turned around and went back to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did plan to have this part be longer, but Bucky just had enough.
> 
> Writing dialogue for a plant and a horse is hard!
> 
> Getting the HTML on this site to behave is harder....
> 
> PS: thanks for the comments. I love them all.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter was still giddy as he made his way down from the control deck to the main habitation floor. Captain America was on his ship. Captain America was alive.

If you ignored the whole frozen in a glacier for decades thing, Captain America was apparently about ten years younger than he was. 

That wasn't worth dwelling on. His fanboy exhilaration knew no age. He was friends with Captain America! Nothing could beat that! He was...

Peter dropped to the floor and stopped. ''Why does Groot have a Groot-sized grenade launcher?"

Rocket didn't look up from the device he was working on. "Because of that ugly fucking nag," he said. Sleipnir whickered something indignant from where he was sulking in a corner that took up half the room and Rocket shouted at him over his shoulder. "I don't care that your mommy says you're pretty. Your mommy can suck on the ship's waste outtake. You try to chew on Groot again and he'll blow you into real pretty steaks!"

Peter felt the start of the headache that first began around the time he met this lot. "You can't just carry a grenade launcher on a ship! You could blow a hole in the hull!"

Rocket didn't bother to look up from his work. "You trying to imply that Groot's got lousy aim?"

Groot glared. "I am Groot," he snarled. 

Just then, Captain America walked in to join them, his loopy companion on his heels. Peter managed to avoid squealing audibly as he beamed at him and briefly turned back to Groot. "Don't shoot the horse!" he snarled. With that he turned back to Captain America, his grin wide enough to nearly split his face as he tripped over chairs and Drax's outstretched legs in order to get to him.

"Careful you don't cream your shorts, Quill," Rocket sniggered. Peter smacked the back of his head.

''Why would he have cream in his shorts?" Drax asked. "That makes no sense. It would spoil before anyone could use it."

Peter ignored all of them. "Cap! How'd you sleep? How's your friend?"

"I'm good," Cap said. "Thank you." He looked behind him. "I’m afraid Bucky's having one of his bad days though.” 

Bucky -- there was something familiar about that name, Peter just couldn't put his finger on it -- gave him a look cold as death. "There are forty-seven ways to kill you with the objects in this room."

Peter gaped at him while Drax sat up, interested. "Forty-seven? I was only aware of thirty-eight. Come, man who has the brain of a small child. Sit and tell me of these forty-seven ways."

Bucky studied Drax for a moment and then shuffled around both Cap and Peter and wandered over to join him.

Cap looked pained. "Sorry about that."

"Was he really serious about killing me?" Peter asked. 

Cap winced again. "Uh, yes? But only in the nicest way."

Peter considered that. “Huh, well that sucks.” He shook it off. “Hey, just so you know, we’re on the way to Thanos’ territory. Gamora says we’ll be there in another day or so. It’s a long trip.”

“You got a plan for when we get there yet?” Rocket asked as he screwed two components together. Groot watched him, grenade launcher resting against the edge of the pot. Sleipnir began to edge closer to them.

“I have a plan!” Peter barked.

“So what is this plan?” Rocket asked.

“I’ll have a plan!”

Rocket grabbed another component. “Running out of time to have a plan,” he pointed out. “Sure you don’t want me to come up with something?”

Peter was beat red. At this rate, Cap was going to think he was an idiot. “I’m the Captain of this ship. I own this ship. I’ve been coming up with plans since long before I met you!”

“That why your head was worth forty thousand credits when we met you?” Rocket asked, still not looking up.

“Um,” Cap said. “Sleipnir?”

Sleipnir made his move, stretching out his neck and reaching for Groot with his long, flexible lips. Groot shrieked “I am Groot!”, cocked the launcher, and turned so fast his pot nearly spun off the table. He brought the weapon up and fired.

The result was pretty predictable.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone cares, I added some of my art to the bottom of Chapter 7. I've been working on my comic drawing skills. Added one to the bottom of "Hunger" too.
> 
> On to the fate of the mighty stallion, Sleipnir! And everybody else.

Peter stomped back and forth across the three or so feet he had the room for, his face nearly as red as his coat."Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he yelled. "I told you! I told you! Didn't I tell you? I know I told you!"

Arms crossed, Steve stood wedged against the back wall and watched. There were only three seats on the cramped command deck. Gamora was in the pilot's seat, where she'd been on watch when they'd all come up here. Rocket was on the seat beside her, Groot in his pot between his knees. Drax had the third seat behind and between them. He also had Bucky curled up on his lap, both of them ignoring everyone else as Bucky stiltedly told Drax about the carbon fibre knife he'd brought with him. Drax looked fascinated. Steve really wasn't sure how he felt about that.

''Calm down," Rocket said. "It's just a little hole."

Peter clawed at the air, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. "It's not a little hole. It went right into space. It let all the air out. It nearly killed us. That automatically makes it not a little hole!" 

"Ooh, big man with the semantics," Rocket sneered. 

Peter stabbed a finger at him. "Shut up, fur ball!"

"Who are you calling a fur ball?''

Peter ignored him and pointed at Groot. "You--you have shitty aim!"

''I am Groot!"

Peter spun and pointed at Sleipnir, who was sitting on his rump in the corner by the external airlock, trussed up like a Christmas ham with several rolls worth of alien duct tape wrapped around all eight of his legs and his muzzle as well ."And you're an asshole! Try to eat Groot one more time and I'll cycle you out the airlock!"

Sleipnir rolled his eye towards the decidedly not horse-sized hatch.

"I never said you had to go out in one piece!"

Steve sighed. This wasn't getting them anywhere."What's standard protocol for a hull beach?" he asked. 

"We have to land and make repairs," Gamora said. "Before the beach tears any wider."

"Where can we do that?"

She tapped at her computer. Steve had a little surprised to see they didn't have an AI like Jarvis. given this was space and everything more advanced than Earth, but for all he knew, out here that would be considered slavery.

"Here," Gamora said and an image of a brown planet covered in technical schematics appeared. "Perseus Moon."

''Aww, that place is a dump," Rocket bitched.

''It's the only place close enough to us that can fix the ship and doesn't report directly to Thanos," Gamora said. "I really don't want him finding me."

"Perseus Moon," Steve muttered. "Really? An alien planet named after a hero from Greek myth?"

"What are you talking about?" Rocket asked. "Perseus roughly translates to 'we peed here first, it's ours,' in Badoon. Whoever first landed there musta been an asshole."

Steve blinked at that. "Okay." He looked at Peter." How is it that everyone here speaks English anyway? Did you teach them?"

Peter swelled with pride."Yep. Nobody else knows it so it's better than code." He paused. "Okay, the Reavers know it. And a couple of hookers back on Rigel Prime. And some prison guards on Talus Aquila 4. And some inmates. A lot of inmates. There wasn't much to do on Talus Aquila 4." He frowned. "I guess if humanity ever does come out here officially, whoever they send is gonna be really confused."

''Alright then, if that's where we have to go. You're in charge, Star Lord." He couldn't help but smile when the imam beamed fit to burst.

This was a good team, he decided. They had their quirks, but then every good team did. Maybe once his debt to Loki was repaid, they could stay with them. It wasn't as if he could just take Bucky back to Earth. Not with the threat hanging over his head there.

He looked over at his lover, curled up on Drax's lap and resting against his massive chest as the alien explained something to him in terms easy enough for Bucky to understand even when he was in the worst of his fog.

"Then, once you have gutted your enemy and he is still screaming, you thrust your hand up through the opening to grasp any of his hearts. Get a good, solid grip so that you can rip it out to show to his companions. It always makes them fearful and is quite tasty too."

"Tasty,'' Buck repeated attentively.

Then again, maybe they'd find their own ship instead.


	10. Chapter 10

Perseus Moon was dark, the air cold enough to be uncomfortable and the ground gritty and apparently barren of any sort of actual life. The city covered the entire surface of the planet, all of the buildings stocky and low to make room for the spaceports and construction hangars.

At least there was air on the moon, even if it did smell oily. Beneath the overhanging shadow of his damaged ship, Peter looked at his crew and passengers. "Okay, thanks to Rocket, Groot, and Sleipnir, we need not just supplies to repair the hole, but to replace the stuff that got sucked out through it."

"Hey!" Rocket protested. He had Groot's pot strapped to his chest in some sort of baby harness so he could keep his hands free for a rifle bigger than he was. "What are you blaming me for?"

"You gave Groot a rocket launcher."

"Fine." Rocket sniffed. "But why mention me first?"

"You GAVE Groot a ROCKET LAUNCHER."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"I am Groot," Groot agreed.

Peter held up a stack of lists. "This place is pretty sketchy, even for us. We want to get out of here fast, so we're splitting up into pairs. Find the shit on your list and get back here so we can start repairing the ship. Got it?" Bored grumbling answered him.

"Alright," Peter snnounced. "Cap's with me." Cap looked like he was about to protest, but Peter gave him such an idolizing grin that he subsided.

"Rocket, Groot. You're together. Try not to murder anyone." 

Rocket looked at the list Peter handed him and his lip curled back from his teeth. "Great. We get to find the worst shit. Fuck you, Quill." He handed the list to Groot and padded off without waiting for the rest of them. 

Peter handed the next list to Drax. "How about you take Bucky with you?" he suggested. "You've been like two peas in a pod." 

Drax took the list with an indignant frown. "You dare to suggest I would pee on him?"

Peter turned his palm towards them. "That's not what I meant! Plus that's gross!"

Bucky frowned in thought. "I remember peas. They're mushy vegetables."

''You think we are mushy vegetables?!"

"No!" Peter yelled. "It's a goddamned metaphor! I forgot metaphors go over your head like a... never mind. I meant you two work well together."

"Ah, yes." The rage on Drax's face smoothed away. "That is true. We will."

Bucky's forehead furrowed as he looked up at Drax, over at Steve, and then back at Drax. "We have a mission?"

"Yes," Drax said, very simply. Bucky nodded and followed him without any more hesitation. Beside Peter, Cap gave a worried sigh. 

Peter turned towards Gamora. "I don't need a partner," she said as she snatched the list out of his hand before he could say anything. 

"I know that," he agreed. "But take the horse. Think of him as transportation instead. You'll need him."

Gamora studied Peter for a moment as she pocketed the list and then strode over to Sleipnir. She vaulted onto his back and he galloped off with his ears pricked up, Gamora keeping her seat on his back as if she'd been riding all her life.

Peter turned to Cap with a grin. "Well, it's just you and me, Cap. Star Lord and Captain America. This moon won't know what hit it."

"Alright,'' Cap agreed with a last worried look in the direction his friend had gone. What are we getting?"

"Nothing," Peter told him. "We only need three things. Come on, let's go get a drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been much longer if I had the FAINTEST idea what they're getting. I haven't a clue. Any suggestions? Pretty please?
> 
> Rocket with Groot in a baby harness is inspired by a fanart piece I saw on Tumblr and naturally can't find now.


	11. Chapter 11

Rifle braced against his shoulder, Rocket made his way through the crowds of various aliens, small enough in comparison to most of them that he and Groot went unnoticed. Sometimes that sort of attitude bothered Rocket and he'd make sure he wasn't ignored, usually with the application of large amounts of firepower, but today he didn't care. He wanted the ship repaired and off this rock so they could finish this job and get their hands on all of these beautiful credits.

"What do you think of our passengers?" he asked Groot. "Other than the nag, I mean."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah," Rocket agreed as he checked a glowing board for directions and set off down a side street. "You got that right. If Cap asked Quill to strip naked and dance in the middle of a Kree war council, he'd want to know for how long. What an idiot." He chuckled. "His friend is just weird though, even for a human. Something went real wrong in his construct algorithms."

"I am Groot," Groot said in reproach. 

"What do you mean, be nice? I am nice! I could have turned out just like him if the docs back home got my neural net wrong. I saw some of their failures. Not something you can just forget."

Groot craned his head around to look up at Rocket. "I am Groot?"

Rocket shrugged. "Maybe. It's not the sort of thing you can just slap together in an afternoon, even if you're me. "He sniffed at the air. "Rather make you something you can maybe aim straight to take care of the nag."

Groot reached up to pat his cheek with a hand that was no more than a twig. "I am Groot," he declared. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." They came to a dimly lit, filthy store with a reek to it that Rocket didn't even want to think about and went inside. Behind the counter, a huge, hump-backed, wide-muzzled alien peered at them with tiny eyes. 

"How much for 201 Aleks of ship grade adhesive?" Rocket asked. 

The shopkeep spat something that looked toxic. "Fifteen thousand credits," it rasped. 

"I am Groot!" Groot gasped. 

"No kidding!" Rocket agreed, outraged. "That's outright robbery!"

The alien hawked and spat something else which promptly started to eat through the floor. "Don't like it, leave. Only one who sells it that cheap."

Furious and grumbling to himself while Groot vibrated with fury in his pot, Rocket stormed out of the shop. "That busy blakeat thief! Who does it think it is? No way in Drax's butthole am I paying that much for glue!"

"I am Groot," Groot pointed out. 

"I don't care that we have the money! It's the principle of the thing. I am an honest person who doesn't deserve to be cheated!" He set his fists on his hips and glowered. 

"I am Groot?" Groot asked. 

"Of course we're gonna steal it!" Rocket snapped. 

###

Gamora sat on Sleipnir's back, regal as a queen as the magnificent stallion raced along the causeway, aliens from a hundred different species darting out of the way. Whether it was his eight massive hooves or the unforgiving look in her eyes, no one tried to stop them.

###

Drax and Bucky headed for a salvage yard with piles of materiel in it the size of small mountains.

"There are ninety-three ways to kill that funny looking red thing wearing the flourescent doily on its head," Bucky observed. 

Drax looked over at the painfully thin, multi-limbed alien in question. "Twenty-one," he corrected. "They exude a deadly poison through their skin and can also run on any surface. Very fast. Very hard to hit."

Bucky frowned and looked as if he wanted to test that.

"Still, good observation,'' Drax approved. "Who taught you such skills?"

"Hydra did."

"This Hydra must be a great teacher," Drax decided. "To be revered for producing such a warrior."

Bucky shrugged. "Hydra found me when I was dying in the snow. They took my arm and broke me until all I'd do was kill for them. When they weren't using me, they froze me. That's what Steve says. It's hard to think about back then."

Drax frowned. "This was not just the technique of a particularly rough taskmaster?"

Bucky kept walking, his voice an indifferent monotone. He thought that he liked Drax. He didn't like him in the way that he liked Steve, but everything he said was clear and simple to understand. It was almost like having a handler again, a bit, only without the fear and pain. It made it easy to answer his questions about things that were normally so lost in the fog that Bucky didn't remember them at all. To think about them again was painful though. They brought with them emotions too complex for him to process, so all he could actually feel was pain and he wished Steve were there to soothe them away. 

"They were the enemy," Bucky said. "Our enemy. They wanted to destroy everything and make everybody into slaves. We fought against them, until I fell. Then they cut away everything that used to make me me and made me fight for them."

Drax's frown deepened. "That is an obscenity," he growled. "To take a warrior of so much talent and make such poor use of him. You and I, we will find this Hydra and we will make the galaxy free of them!"

That seemed like a good idea. "Okay," Bucky agreed. 

###

It didn't take long to find a bar.

"Are you sure we shouldn't be helping the others?" Steve asked with the tone to his voice of 'Captain America is disappointed in you, son, but I'm giving you the chance to learn from your mistakes.'

The opportunity went sailing right on by. "Hey, this is a chance to really get to know each other, as leaders and stuff. After all, we're both famous men!"

"We are?" Steve said, though he really meant 'You are?'

"Of course!" Peter pointed a finger at him. "Don't underestimate yourself. You're the only reason I paid any attention in history class back on Earth." The bar's doors whooshed open to let them through. "And I'm the legendary Star Lord!"

Hundreds of eyes spread across dozens of bodies turned to look at them.

"Star Lord?" repeated a former inmate of Talus Aquila 4 in a language Steve didn't speak. "Good price on head of Star Lord."

"Oh, shit," Peter said in the language he did.


	12. Chapter 12

More nimble and arboreal than most people suspected, Rocket scrambled up the side of the warehouse where the alien was selling overpriced adhesive. Groot pressed against his chest armour to keep from being caught against something and crushed and kept a lookout as well. No one had seen them, or if they did, they couldn't be bothered to raise a warning. Rocket clambered up to the filthy, sludge covered roof and crossed it to a chimney vent. It was narrow, nothing more than a pipe to let the lousy excuse for air on the moon circulate. It was a cheaper method than running actual air scrubbers and Rocket had noticed them when they first went into the store.

"I am Groot," Groot observed as he studied the sealed grate over the pipe.

"Just what I was thinking," Rocket agreed as he disarmed the pathetic excuse for a security system and circled the pipe's lip with a quick working acid that would eat the grate right off.

The pipe was too narrow for Rocket to fit into so he unspooled a line of cable and affixed one end to the edge of the building. The other end held a small, electronic magnetic device.

Once the cable was ready, Rocket lifted up Groot's pot. With the utmost care, he worked his friend free of the soil until he could wriggle his roots in the air.

"Good?" Rocket asked. Groot wasn't ready to leave his pot yet. He needed the nutrients in the sort and lacked the strength to move very far anyway. Still, the little creature nodded.

"I am Groot," he said, but he kept a tight grip on Rocket's hand as he was placed on the top of the magnet, where he shifted his grip to the cable.

"In and out, quick and easy," Rocket said as he lowered Groot with the magnet and cable down into the pipe.

"I am Groot!" floated up from the pipe and Rocket had to laugh. 

###

Sleipnir raced around the corner of a street that led into a market crowded with black market goods and interested thieves. Stretched out in a full gallop, he screamed his challenge as he bore down on the market, glorying again at how the shoppers scattered out of his way, but one alien didn't. Huge and heavy with spikes, she roared out an answer to his challenge and raised her guns at the same moment she lashed out at him with a lethal looking, barbed tail. 

Gamora swung herself around his neck, sitting against his chest and above his thundering legs with her feet hooked together across his back. She blocked the alien's shots with her blade and as Sleipnir leaped high, his hooves tucked to his belly, she slashed downwards and bisected the alien's tail halfway through. Before the alien could even start screaming or Sleipnir's hooves hit the ground again, she was in her place on his back again, unmoved by the excitement. 

Sleipnir galloped on. 

###

Drax made his way through the salvage yard, looking left then right for enough of the special materiel they needed for the hull patch. Halfway up the nearest pile, Bucky squatted on his heels as he curiously looked over an old type neutron bomb, then tossed it away over his shoulder and covered a yawn with his metal arm.

Drax peered up at him. "You are tired," he observed. 

Bucky immediately shook his head. "I can complete the mission," he said. 

"I never said you could not," Drax said and reached up towards him. "Come down here." 

Bucky sighed and dove off the pile.

Drax caught him in midair, tucked him comfortably enough for both of them on one hip with his arm secure around him and Bucky's head resting on his shoulder, and headed deeper into the salvage yard. If he couldn't find what they were looking for here, he was sure there was a ship somewhere they could just rip it off of instead. 

###

Captain America in combat was an incredible thing to watch. He moved with perfect control, completely aware of everything around him and faster than the aliens trying to subdue him.

Peter would have gaped at him in a state of utter hero worship if he weren't trying to avoid getting his own ass kicked.

"Damn it, you've got the wrong man!" he shouted as he turned and spun, firing both pistols and using his jump boots to get out of the way of a return attack. "There isn't any price on my head."

"Not something we make mistakes about," replied one alien with a hideously orange pattern of spots over its muscled body. Peter's best guess was that it was the leader.

His other guess was that he and Cap had picked a bar where an entire mercenary group had been drinking, because everyone was attacking and these assholes knew how to work together. If all of the Guardians had been there, they would have wiped the floor with this lot... eventually... but the two of them were way too outnumbered.

Still, Cap nearly won his way through them. Even outnumbered and outgunned, he refused to give up or escape, and given that the mercs were only after Peter, he had more than a few chances to do so. Cap didn't leave him and Peter was touched by that.

He was also nauseated, achy, and covered in his own vomit after one of them shot him with a particularly nasty stun gun, but he didn't want to dwell on that. He was more concerned about the apparent blank spot in his memory that ended when he opened his eyes to find himself lying on his stomach in a small cargo hold, wrapped from his feet to his shoulders in the sort of spacer tape used to hold loads up to a hundred tons together. He also felt movement in the deck plates underneath him. They were apparently already taking him to wherever.

This hasn't so bad. He was being taken in by a bunch of mercs who would probably be pissed to learn he wasn't worth anything, but he was alive, he wasn't trussed up so tightly he was about to lose any limbs, and Cap was free. He'd tell the others and they'd come get him.

Peter turned his head to see the other side of the cargo lay and blinked at Captain America lying tied up beside him, a very annoyed frown on his face.

It was time to go to Plan B, just as soon as Peter thought of one.


	13. Chapter 13

Groot didn't exactly have feet yet. 

Growth for his species was like a snowball going downhill. Slow at first, painfully slow, but eventually momentum would catch up and the snowfall would turn into an avalanche.

In his adult form, he had full control over his body and could reshape it at will, but so long as he was a sapling, he was extremely limited. He was already tired after only minutes out of his pot, his arms shaking where they gripped the cable while Rocket lowered him down.

The pipe was long, dark and dusty, and would have probably been filled with vermin on any other planet. Proably because there weren't, there was no grill at the bottom of the pipe and Groot kept a careful lookout as he was lowered into the store, above the dusty shelves of overpriced goods.

The adhesive canisters were almost directly below the pipe Rocket picked, on the top shelf directly below him and easily viewable from where they'd been when they first entered the store. Groot never would have agreed to Rocket's plan if they hadn't known exactly where it was and it he couldn't be dropped right on top of it. He just didn't have the strength. As it was, the few feet he had to drag himself to reach the first of the canisters nearly did him in, and that has before he started to roll the canister back over to the magnet.

The ten minutes it took to do so felt like an eternity to a flora colossus sprout out of the pot. Groot was whimpering for breath as he pushed the canister the last few inches to the magnet and affixed it to the end with a chunking sound. The shopkeep, reliant most of all on a sense of smell that told it when intruders were near, didn't react to the faint smell of wool in the air as Groot hung onto the cable again and was pulled up with the canister. One was going to have to be enough. He didn't have the strength left in him to manage any more.

###

Sleipnir reached the highest natural peak on the planet, one above the height of even the highest space port and wreathed with natural lightning discharging from ions in the atmosphere.

He paused there to rear, hooves pawing at the sky as he screamed A challenge no one in the galaxy would risk, a threat no one could beat.

Gamora looked down at him, her expression unimpressed. "So," she said. "When are you finally going to admit you have no idea where you're going and ask for directions?"

###

Drax stomped his way through the salvage yard, his massive arm wrapped around the sleeping assassin resting on his hip, Bucky's slow breath warm against his neck and his odd, lub dub heartbeat sounding against his muscular side. It was still somehow comforting to feel the trust of it. Trust wasn't something that he'd had opportunity to experience for a long time, outside of the Guardians. It wasn't something he was given to betray either, regardless of how little he really knew about this most unusual human creature.

He didn't know that Bucky wasn't the man he used to be. Hydra hadn't wanted him to be, after all. All they'd wanted was the weapon. The logical, analytical tactician who could plan and execute any mission, on his own own, and usually without backup. Without emotion as well; certainly without mercy.

Their perfect machine had begun to break down over time though. Repeated freezing, endless wipes; the Erskine knockoff super serum wasn't enough to maintain him over the decades in the face of that kind of punishment. The wipes which were once used only to punish him if needed and to keep him from remembering enough to start reforming a personality ended up in the end being a necessity to keep him functioning at all. Newly wiped, he was crystal clear, sharp. Deadly. Left awake too long though and the delirium started to set in, leaving his moments of clarity increasingly shorter. By the time he was sent after Steve on the helicarrier, his functional window was only three days long.

Now there was no chair and no wipes and the fog had him almost all of the time, only rarely letting the sun through, mostly when he or someone he loved was threatened. Bucky hadn't lost his intelligence though. He knew he has damaged, knew he'd been made into something others thought was less than who he used to be. Even Steve, who loved him, missed the man he once was. Steve looked at Bucky and saw him as a suffering friend who needed help. He wanted the old, unhurt Bucky to come back. All of the Avengers wanted that for him. Bucky loved Steve back and he do anything for him that he could, but desires didn't matter when he couldn't even remember who that man had been.

Drax, however, saw Bucky only as he was now and cared nothing for used-to-be's. The fog and the confusion were a normal part of Bucky to him. He had no other expectations and without him always trying to pull him back out of the fog, like everyone else, Bucky sometimes started to wonder who he'd be if he ever managed to push through to the other side instead.

For the most part, he just found that he didn't feel any more at threat from this massive alien than he did from Steve, so he slept against his side and let Drax look for the patch Bucky probably wouldn't have been able to recognize anyway.

It was a peaceful night. Drax had found hardly any freshly murdered bodies at all and the local carnivorous vermin were easy to drive away from after he'd murdered the first dozen.

He was starting to think he'd never find a patch of the right size and consistency for the ship, however, when he reached one of the outer walls and found a colourful, circular piece of vibranium that was perfect. He weighed it in his hand and nodded in satisfaction before he started back with all of his precious cargoes.

Bucky shifted in his tight grip, caught in the beginnings of a nightmare, and Drax tightened his grip even more, applying a reassuring pressure as he turned his head and breathed over him. The human settled again and Drax left the salvage yard with the patch, glad that the plan had gone smoothly for once.

###

"So," Peter said, drawing the word out as he futilely tried to squirm out of his bonds. "This didn't really turn out according to the plan."

"What was the plan?" Cap asked.

"Get really drunk and be best friends by the end of it, actually."

"I can't get drunk," Cap pointed out.

"Now he tells me," Peter muttered and continued to squirm.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time everyone returned to the ship with their supplies, it had been hours and there was no sign of either Peter or Captain America. Drax had been first, and by the time he'd laid Bucky down in his own bunk, Rocket had returned with an exhausted Groot and the adhesive. Groot went into the bunk next to Bucky and Drax and Rocket set to work patching the hole. 

They were just finishing up when Gamora returned on Sleipnir. ''Well. Your timing is brilliant," Rocket snarked at her as she dismounted.

"It always is," she agreed and studied the new, circular patch adhered to the outside of their ship. "Isn't that Captain America's shield?"

The two of them spun to look at it and then at each other. "You idiot!" Rocket shrieked. "Why didn't you notice all the gaudy red, white, and blue stripes?" 

"His people are colorblind," Gamora reminded him, "and you can't be bothered to keep your eyes open unless you're shooting at something." She turned to Drax. "Where'd you find it?"

Drax shifted his offended glare from Rocket to Gamora. "Salvage Yard. "He looked at Rocket again. "Keep your insults to yourself before I forget that the young ones are sleeping."

"Yeah, yeah." Rocket waved him away. "So someone ditched the shield, which means Quill's in trouble. What a shock."

Gamora crossed her arms. "And the Captain as well. We'll have to find both of them."

"No sign of a fight here,'' Rocket said. "Must have happened somewhere else. Stil, it's Quill. How about we start the search at the closest bar to the salvage yard?"

"Probably find him in a pool of his own vomit," Gamora sighed. "Should we wake the others?"

Drax shook his head. "Let them sleep. The animal can watch them." Slipnir gave a startled note of surprise followed by a speculative look up at the ship.

Gamora patted his shoulder as she passed. "Eat anyone and I'll use you to make new upholstery for the pilot's chair."

They headed out, carrying with them their standard assortment of weaponry. Peter was a goofball, but he was very good at what he did and he was their goofball. Besides, the only ones willing to stand up for them were them. Peter was the first to say that.

It didn't take long to find the bar. It was right near the salvage yard where Drax found the shield and it was a mess. When they went inside, they saw signs of what looked to have been a massive fight.

"At least Quill made them work for it," Rocket chuckled. There were even a few bodies left, still leaking their various equivalents of blood. 

"These are fresh!" Gamora hissed. 

That must mean that Peter was still here. Drax could hear faint sounds from the, whimpers of agony, and with a roar he charged, straight through the bar and the heavy wall on the other side, into another room. There was an alien there, a multilegged, vicious thing that was currently pinned to the floor with a variety of knives. Bucky straddled it, his face hidden behind the mask and goggles which left his hair free.

When he burst inside, Bucky pointed a machine pistol straight between Drax's eyes.

Drax stopped, surprised. "What are you doing here?" 

Bucky tilted his head to one side. "Woke," he said, his voice slow and strained. "Listened. Heard. They have Stevie. Took him." He turned back to his prisoner and pressed a knife against its thorax until yellow blood began to drip. "I went ahead. Found this place, found this thing. He knows where Stevie is. Won't talk to me."

"I'll tell you anything you want!" the alien shrieked in a language Bucky didn't know. "Stop hurting me! They took him in for a bounty! Him and the other one! They're both alive! I'll give you the maps, the codes. everything! Just stop!"

"See?" Bucky snarled. "Nothing but gibberish."

Drax felt so proud.


	15. Chapter 15

Yondu was in his office, carefully cleaning his collection of troll dolls when Kraglin wandered in. "Hey boss, a buncha mercs from some dump world are here for the payout on one of our bounties."

Yondu looked up from his orange-haired treasure. "What bounty's that?"

Kraglin shrugged. "I dunno. Say they want their forty thousand credits though."

"Forty thousand?" Yondu straightened in his chair. They'd only had one bounty for that much. "Kraglin, whose job is it to cancel bounties when we don't need them no more?"

"Horuz does, boss."

"Horuz? Horuz died on Xander, you idiot." Yandu stood up. "Come on."

He stomped his way down to the landing bay, yelling at various members of his crew while he did. Kraglin followed on his heels, trying not to draw his attention. In the shuttle bay was a group of standard scumbag mercenaries surrounding two humans, one of whom was very recognizable.

"Hey, Yondu," Peter said. ''How's it hanging?"

''Boy!'' Yondu crowed, his arms spread wide. "How you been? I haven't seen you since the battle against Ronin on Xandar!"

"Um.'' Peter said, likely remembering how he'd swapped out an Infinity Stone for a troll doll that day. Yondu didn't really give a shit. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that the stone could destroy worlds. But the people he wanted to impress believed he had it and besides, he liked the troll. Not that he had plans to tell Peter any of that.

The other human with Peter was a big yellow bastard in clothes tight enough that Yondu could count his muscles. He had a lot of them. He also looked highly unimpressed with everything that was going on. Yondu flashed him a toothy grin. "I see you're finding new people to get in trouble with, boy."

"Brought him," grunted a mercenary. "Want the credits for him. Pay up."

Peter glared at Yondu. "Why do you have a bounty on me?" he demanded. "I thought we were okay!"

Yondu shrugged. "Slight administrative oversight," he said and crooked a thumb at his second-in-command. "Kraglin forgot to cancel the bounty."

"Ain't my fault," Kraglin sulked.

"Well," Peter cheered as he turned towards the mercenary. "Looks like you wasted your time. Sorry. Can you take the chains off us now?"

The mercenary responded by jamming a gun up against the soft underside of Peter's throat. "Came for credits! Leaving with credits!"

'Hey!" shouted the yellow-headed human and he braced to attack, reaffirming Yondu's belief that everyone from Peter's homeworld were morons.

''Help?" Peter squeaked towards Yondu while standing on his toes to try and get away from the gun.

Yondu grinned at him. This was more entertainment than he'd been expecting today. "Looks like you need to cough up forty thousand credits, boy."

"Me? You want me to pay for my own ransom?"

"It's not like I want you," Yondu pointed out. 

Peter looked miserable, but he agreed. "Alright, alright, forty thousand credits. For me and him!" he added, pointing at the other human. He was watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, but Yondu would have bet one of his best trolls that he didn't know a word of the simple spacer language they were using. 

"Not him." the merc disagreed. "Gonna eat him."

Peter's eyes widened. "You don't want to do that!" he blurted.

"Why not?"

It was always fun watching Peter think on his feet and screw someone else over.

"Uh... uh... because he's poisonous." The merc looked dubious. "I mean, just look at him. He's twice my size. It isn't natural. He uses illegal chemicals to make himself big. Uses too much if you ask me. Just look at those pecs; they're about to blow. Very toxic. It'll burn right through the hull."

The mercs edged away from the other human.

By the time negotiations were finished, Peter had handed over the forty credits for his freedom, but received another sixty thousand in return for taking the 'toxic human' off their hands.

"Now remember," Peter shouted after them as they left, "anyone who touched him should shed all of their skin, at least three times. More is safer.''

Yondu laughed and draped an arm over his shoulder. "Peter, Peter my boy, you were always a conman after my own heart."

"Thanks, Yondu."

Yondu squeezed him tight. "And for a mere ninety percent of those credits, I'll drop you off on the beautiful, settled planet underneath us, instead of, say, cycling you out the airlock?"

''Aw, fuck you, Yondu!"

###

At least half a day later, Yondu was in his quarters enjoying his trolls and his new profit. He didn't worry about Peter. That boy always landed on his feet. The next time they met up, they'd laugh about this, and if not, so what? Yondu had won; he always won.

A garrotte came down past his face and tightened around his neck, cutting off his air and definitely his ability to whistle. Frantic, he looked up as he clawed at the cord to see some sort of bug eyed black monster with long hair behind him.

Then Gamora dropped down in front of him, her eyes deadly cold.

"I have one question," she told him. "Whether you survive it or not depends entirely on how you answer." Yondu managed a frantic nod and she smiled.

''Tell me where Peter and Steve are," she said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I don't really know the Marvel alien species and I was too lazy to do any research today for what's essentially just background window dressing, so I stole them from Mass Effect 2, where my Shepherd somehow managed to end up looking like Rumlow. Except he's nicer. Not that that's hard...

Akor Basti was a planet known for its status as a trade hub for dozens of nearby systems. The planet itself was vastly populated, with hundreds of spaceports and stations floating in orbit. As a result, it had a focused attention on providing everything that the hundreds of species who came through could possibly want.

In the case of Peter Quill, that came in the shape of non-poisonous, drinkable alcohol.

“You see,” he explained to his table mate. “You have to be very careful what you order. What’s good for a vorsha won’t have any effect on a human and anything a korgun would like will make our insides rot. You wouldn’t believe the medical costs that kind of mistake will bring you. Yondu damn near just ate me instead. Took a year to pay him back.”

On the other side of the table, Cap hadn’t touched his drink and was giving Peter that ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ look, with the beginnings of ‘shape up or I’ll kick your ass’ also starting to show up. 

“After what just happened, we’re in another bar?” 

Peter gave him a sloppy grin. Cap was being a teetotaller, but he was on his third glass. Akor Basti was known for having the good stuff for cheap. It made trade negotiations much more interesting and usually in favour of the locals, who had agreements with the bar to get their drinks watered down.

“Course we are. How else are the Guardians supposed to find us?”

Cap’s expression managed to grow even less impressed. “According to you, we’re six star systems in the opposite direction from where we were. How in hell are they going to find us?”

“There he is!” Rocket shouted as he pushed his way through the doors and the vorgun gathered around it. Despite the massive rifle on his back, he may have been less successful at the move if Drax hadn’t been right behind him, followed by Garmora, Bucky, and Sleipnir. The vorgun weighed the odds against them and fled. 

Rocket grinned up at the others, one hand around where Groot’s pot was strapped to his chest. “Told you he’d be in the closest bar.”

“I am Groot!” Groot cheered.

Cap slapped his hand over his face and shook his head.

Peter grinned and pointed at Cap, because he was a little shit that way. “Told ya.”

Cap’s psychotic little friend Bucky – and Peter was going to remember where he knew that name from sometime – stalked around Drax and headed straight for Cap, his gaze as intent as a predator on the hunt. One of the big ones that could just swallow you in one bite. He didn’t bother going around the table; he just went over it and slithered down until he was straddling Cap’s lap.

Then he started trying to suck his tonsils out.

Peter blinked at that for a moment and then looked up at Gamora with a frown. “How come you never greet me like that?” he asked.

To no one’s surprise, including Peter’s, she smacked him.

Everyone settled down onto chairs around the table, except for Sleipnir, who sat on his haunches, multiple legs jammed under the table, and Groot, who sat in his pot on top of it, well out of the horse’s reach. Unfazed by Bucky’s amorous attack, or Cap’s attempts to get him to let go, they recounted their separate tales about the last day.

“Tell me you soaked Yondu for some cash when you jumped him,” Peter moaned. “And took pictures! I need pictures!”

“Why would you soak cash?” Drax demanded. “Is it to clean it? Are you so dainty you fear to touch what’s passed through other hands?”

Peter pointed at him. “Yes.” He turned back to Gamora. “Well?”

She shrugged. “We were more interested in finding you. Plus we don’t want Yondu’s reavers coming after us. We kept the questioning discrete.”

“Huh,” Peter considered. “Probably good. So long as he doesn’t feel his pride’s slighted, he won’t bother to come after us. No one saw him but you?”

“Bucky was very ruthless,” Drax said with pride. “But silent. Even Gamora was impressed.”

“He’s very good,” she admitted.

“You really like the kid, don’t you?” Rocket asked. Bucky ignored them, now grinding himself against the flailing Cap, both of them still stuck in the lip lock. What little could be seen of Cap’s face was as red as the stripes on his uniform.

Drax slammed his hand down on the table, which had the effect of putting a nice new crack across the surface. “He is like my daughter unto me!” he declared. “I declare that he is mine!”

“He’s your daughter?” Peter managed.

“Yes!”

All of them looked at the oblivious Bucky for a long minute and then back again. “Alrighty then,” Peter said. “Back to business. Oh, by the way, thanks for coming to get me. I knew you would.”

“Just try not to get into trouble again for at least a day,” Gamora said.

“I am Groot,” Groot said solemnly. 

Sleipnir stretched his head over to a nearby table and snagged someone’s vibrantly purple, plumed garnish out of their drink.

The resulting bar fight was epic.

###

Later, after bail had been set and they were back at the ship.

“What the FUCK did you do to my shield??”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, I'm not a psychologist at all and all medical terms used were found via google-fu. Hopefully I'm not too off base...
> 
> Uh, potential trigger for a temporary lack of acknowledging consent?

The bunks in Quill's ship were actually pretty comfortable, along with being more private than Steve would have expected. They were self-contained units, complete with closable lids. They weren’t much bigger than a coffin, but had lights and communications screens inside, as well as their own life support systems so that they could be used as ejectable life pods for the ship, and it was hard to see them as coffins when you had all that and were lying on a bed of antigravity too. The temperature was completely customizable as well, leaving no need for a blanket, which somehow felt even odder to Steve than the fact that he was currently lying in midair. 

All of this was odd, so much so that Steve tried not to think too deeply about it for fear that he'd break down and end up sobbing in the fetal position. Where they were, who they were with, what they were after... it was so far beyond anything he'd been able to imagine when he and Bucky were just a couple of kids in Brooklyn. All he could do was keep going and focus on what needed to be done. 

The lid of his bunk hissed open and Steve was just starting to sit up to see what was happening when Bucky slithered inside and down on top of him. The lid hissed shut again.

"Hiii," Bucky sing-songed, eyes sparkling from the lights lining the lid. There wasn't much room in the bunk and Bucky's face was only inches from his, scented with some sweet fruit Drax gave him at supper.

He was so utterly beautiful and so completely willing to do anything Steve wanted. Steve sighed. "Bucky, what are you doing here?"

In answer, Bucky leaned down and kissed him.

A very large part of Steve wanted to respond and kiss him back, but he couldn't. They couldn't.

"Bucky," he sputtered, the word muffled by Bucky's mouth. He pushed him back and actually had to work at it when Bucky resisted. Steve finally shoved him away by force and held him a few inches above him. "Bucky, no!"

Bucky blinked down at him in confusion, his long hair hanging around his face. "Steve? What's wrong?"

Steve took a deep breath. "I don't want to do this right now."

Bucky squirmed around and put his hand right over top of Steve's erection. Steve yelped and let go. Bucky landed on his chest with a grin. ''This says you do," he grinned.

"Bucky!'' 

They ended up wrestling in the cramped space, Bucky giggling in delight, Steve not at all. This was why Sam and Natasha and everyone else, Steve included, said they couldn't have a sexual relationship. The idea of consent was too ephemeral a concept in Bucky's mind.

Finally, he managed to get Bucky pinned underneath him in such a way that Bucky couldn't just rub against him. Bucky grumbled in frustration.

Steve cupped his face with his hands. "Bucky, Bucky, I need you to focus, okay? I need you to be here with me, right now.” 

Bucky’s eyes looked up at him without understanding. “But I am here.” 

Steve stroked his thumbs across Bucky’s skin. “Not all the way. Come on, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you have to.” 

Bucky shuddered under him and his pupils shrank down, a line appearing between his eyes. “Steve? What did I do?”

Steve didn’t answer him right away. “You know I love you, right? I will always love you."

"I love you too, Stevie."

Steve nodded. "I’m glad, I am, but I don't want to do this now. You can’t make me do this."

Confusion replaced the last of the desire. "But I want to."

"Bucky," Steve said, keeping his voice firm. "Think. I love you, but I don’t want to have sex with you right now.”

Bucky started to frown. "But it feels good. And your johnson's hard."

"Doesn't matter," Steve said. Bucky wasn't struggling against him anymore so he settled himself on his side. Bucky turned so that he was facing him. "Any guy can get hard. Same as any woman can get wet. That's just a physical response. Doesn't mean they want to do anything. I said no. Tell me you haven’t forgotten what no means."

Bucky’s eyes looked away for a long moment and Steve knew he’d remembered when they shimmered. “Hydra never let me say no.” He pressed against Steve, shaking. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve let out the breath he’d been holding and put his arms around him. Bucky pressed up against him, but there was no desire to it this time. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m sorry too. I know you forget things sometimes. I need to get you a notebook like I use to make lists in, so you can be reminded.” Except he’d tried that before and Bucky always lost it. Or didn’t think to read what he’d written, if he could even find the relevant page before everything else in there confused him more. Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s my fault, really. I never should have touched you in the first place.” All of this, everything, it was all his fault.

“What’s wrong with me?” Bucky whimpered.

Traumatic brain injury, memory loss, forms of alexithymia and severe subsyndromal delirium… “Nothing, Bucky,” Steve whispered as he held him close. “Nothing’s wrong with you at all.”


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to the cramped quarters in the ship, Rocket had grumpily relegated himself to a corner of the main living area. That way he could work on his projects without worrying so much about someone stepping on his bomb components.

His peaceful pseudo-isolation ended when Bucky wandered over and flopped down cross-legged across from him.

"Hey!" Rocket shouted as the human started digging through his stuff. "Put that down!" he snapped and grabbed back a narrow probe Bucky picked up. From his seat at the table, Drax looked over at them.

Bucky frowned at Rocket. "Don't treat me like a child," he said slowly. He picked up another probe.

"Then stop acting like one," Rocket snapped and snatched that one too. Bucky looked like he was about to dive at him.

Drax came over and knelt down before he could, his hand heavy on the human's shoulder while he glared at Rocket. "Are you denying the one who is mine what he wants?" he demanded.

Rocket bared his teeth while he clutched the probes close to his chest. "They’re my fucking probes," he snarled. "I stole them! Me! He can’t have one!"

Bucky looked crestfallen. "It's not a pen?" He looked up at Drax with those big eyes that made the purple idiot adopt him in the first place. "I thought it was a pen."

"What the hell's a pen?" Rocket demanded in spite of himself.

"You write with it," Bucky said and mimicked the motion of it with his flesh hand. "I need to write things down. Things I forget, so I can read them and remember and Steve won't be sad."

The guy was definitely a few rikaoks short of a quyulai and Earth obviously a couple centuries away from knowing how to compensate for it.

While he was thinking that, Drax handed the human a tablet. "We use data pads, not pens," he explained.

Bucky's elation quickly turned to despair. "It isn't in English. I don't understand how to use it."

Drax was explaining the use of the device with more patience than Rocket thought he even had when Peter's voice sounded over the intercom. "Get up here, guys. We're in range of Thanos' base. And hoo boy, base isn’t a big enough word for this."

Rocket abandoned his project and scrambled up the ladder to the cockpit. Peter was in the pilot's seat, Gamora at navigation and communication. Steve sat in the rear jump seat, Groot's pot in his lap.

Ahead of them was an asteroid belt, millions of chunks of rock up to the size of planets grouped into a mass that stretched farther than a hundred star systems stacked end to end. Many of the asteroids had buildings and the haze of artificial gravities around them and ships filled the spaces between them, but still everything Rocket saw was dead. It was a chilling sight to a being who wasn't unnerved by much and Rocket moved closer to the chair where Groot was. He’d had no idea Thanos’ forces were so large. The Kree and Xanderese together didn’t have even a fraction of this.

Gamora was on the comms, speaking in a precise, clicking language Rocket wasn’t familiar with. Most galactic languages borrowed from each other over time, but this one wasn’t like any he’d heard before. Rocket wasn’t sure he could even make some of the sounds Gamora was managing, and from the grimace on her face, she didn’t find them pleasant.

Peter looked over at Rocket. “Gamora’s getting us through security,” he said.

Rocket’s ears went flat. “Didn’t they cancel her access when she went rogue?”

“Yeah, but she’d been planning that for years. Set up all sorts of alternate routes in. Identities, passcodes, you name it. Nothing that’s tied to her as Thanos’ daughter, so it’s all still good.”

Gamora finished her conversation with an equally strange voice on the other end of the line and tapped coordinates into her navigation computer. “Go to this asteroid,” she told Peter. “It’s Thanos’ scientific centre. The item we’re looking for is sure to be there. Once we get inside, I’ll be able to access the computer system and find where it is exactly.”

Rocket peered at the asteroid ahead while the ship turned, increasingly unhappy. The asteroid looked to be the size of a small moon and the entire surface and probably the interior was covered in buildings. Warships floated in orbit around it and the other asteroids. From the look of it, he guessed there were millions of them. No wonder so many people were afraid of Thanos. Rocket’s ears went even flatter with the urge to get the hell to the other side of the galaxy, credits be damned.

Groot looked at him.

“I  
(Horrific, immense, endless)

Am  
(surfeit of enemies)

Groot.”  
(Willingness here to terminate our existence)

 

“You said it, Buddy,” Rocket agreed. “We have to be utterly insane to come here. Not even Cap’s bag of credits is worth getting turned to space gas over.” Steve looked at him with a concerned frown.

Groot shook his head.

“I  
(Incomplete articulation of thought)

Am  
(So immensely powerful)

Groot.”  
(Will never notice a solitary, trivial ship)

Rocket glared at his oldest friend. Everyone else watched them both, only able to understand half of the conversation. “You seriously think they’re just going to overlook us?”

“I  
(We’re past the outlying beacons)

Am  
(through the passcoded territories)

Groot.”  
(So they already have.)

Rocket blinked, his ears back up. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Thanos didn’t exactly have his science centre outside of the best security his army had. Still, his nervousness made his tail lash. “Just because they haven’t noticed us before doesn’t mean they never will.”

“Yeah, it does,” Peter said. “Because we have Gamora and she could walk us right into Thanos’ throne room if she wanted to.”

Gamora didn’t look up from her screens. “THAT would be stupid.”

“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Thank you for your help.” He stared out the front of the ship. The scientific asteroid filled the entire horizon now and beacons were flashing to guide them to a landing bay. “This… I could never have made it this far without your help. All of you.”

“No problem, Cap!” Peter said with one of the grins that displayed all of his teeth.

“Still starting to think we’re not getting paid enough for this,” Rocket muttered.

Peter just laughed and took them in for a landing.


	19. Chapter 19

The complex they set down in was somewhere close to the size of Manhattan and the landing bay as big as a dozen football fields. Theirs was far from the only ship there and no one paid them any attention as they disembarked either, despite the plethora of weapons they were carrying. Compared to a few of the warrior types standing guard around certain of the ships, they were actually carrying light. Except for Bucky, of course. 

Dressed in full uniform with both helmet and mask, since Gamora cautioned that the air quality and even survivability varied wildly in Thanos' realm-one of the ways Thanos liked to test his people and honour Death-Steve stepped off the ship and scanned the area for immediate threats. He had his shield back, a little rough around the paintjob from the glue solvent, and he kept it on his arm instead of his back, just in case. The others were similarity geared up, though Gamora had taken it a step further by wearing a black suit that covered her from head to foot. The daughters of Thanos were all far too recognizable for her to take any chances.

Bucky walked up beside Steve, almost as covered as Gamora with only his long hair exposed. He'd been quieter than usual the last few days and Steve ached for having upset him, but he'd had no other real choice. At least Bucky seemed to understand. 

"Fucking hell, Rocket, what are you doing?"

Steve tensed and looked over at the sound of Peter's voice, not sure what he would see. Peter had a good team, but a lot of their behaviour definitely couldn't be classified as human.

Rocket was standing in front of Peter, hefting a massive gun as if it weighed nothing. He also had the baby sling on to hold Groot's pot against his chest. Both of them glared up at Peter with the same expressions of annoyance.

Peter pointed at Groot.''This isn't a trip to the bar we're taking. You're not bringing him!"

"I am Groot!"

"Yeah!" Rocket agreed and looked his thumb towards the ship's cockpit. "I ain't leaving him alone here with that thing."

Steve and Peter both looked up towards the ship's cockpit window to see Sleipnir looking down at them. It had been an easy decision to leave the horse with the ship. He was more limited in where he could go, he couldn't use a gun, and if he were to get hurt, Loki would likely go nuclear.

Bucky stepped up beside Rocket. "I'll watch their six," he promised. 

Peter opened his mouth, probably to argue, when Drax stomped past all of them. "Enough talk," he said. "More fighting."

"Agreed," Gamora said as she joined him. Rocket muttered something about not needing anyone to watch him and followed, Bucky a few feet behind. Steve adjusted his shield on his arm and fell in line with the others.

"But I'm supposed to be in charge," Peter whined as he brought up the rear.

It took a good half an hour to cross the hangar through the mess of ships, pilots, and technicians. Steve spent most of it wanting to ask Bucky how he was doing, but he didn't dare. From the way he moved and kept track of his surroundings, even in how he held his weapons, it was obvious that Bucky was in Winter Soldier mode. Steve didn't dare distract him and risk disrupting his focus.

They crossed the hangar and were ignored the entire way, just one more group of aliens among hundreds. Steve would have been unimpressed with the level of security if he didn't know that just getting in here was due to the groundwork Gamora laid down years before.

Beyond the hangar, they came to a massive corridor that bore deeper into the complex.

Rocket gave a low whistle when they reached it. "We shouldn't have bothered walking," he said. "We could have just flown the ship through here."

"Not unless you're hiding a pilot better than any of us," Peter said. "I don't want my ship wrecked."

"Coward," Rocket told him. 

''Happily. It's called having a survival instinct."

The massive corridor turned out to be some sort of terminal, with elevators, corridors, bay doors, and storage or work areas branching off of it. Many aliens were travelling in vehicles, both groundbased and in the air, but there was also a moving sidewalk which Gamora led them to. It not only ran in both directions, it had different paths which ran at different speeds. The section Gamora led them to flowed about as fast as a moving car, by Steve's best estimate. He bent his knees and braced himself against the movement. It was vehemently not a sensation he enjoyed.

Bucky, meanwhile, spread both arms like a bird and whooped from joy.

"Two point eight four two standard units to where we have to leave the slider," Gamora reminded them. According to Peter's math, that was close to three hours. The size of this place was nearly beyond imagining.

They settled down to wait, most of them sitting cross-legged on the moving surface. There wasn't much else to do. Steve didn't go over the plan with them or even discuss their goals. Thanos' spies were everywhere in the public areas, Gamora warned. Even speaking in English was no guarantee they wouldn't be overheard. 

So they waited, and the sidewalk moved underneath them. No one bothered them, but it wasn't an entirely pleasant journey. There was a tension here, something Steve had last seen among the civilian populations of occupied Europe during world war II. Everyone was wary of betrayal, of being singled out by the enemy. Back then it had been Nazis they feared. Now it was aliens from dozens of races in the same darkly patterned battle gear, and probes, circular and the size of a seat cushion, which flew everywhere and watched everything.

With nothing else to do until they arrived at their destination except for relaxing and appearing as if they belonged, Steve sat down next to Bucky. He was sitting cross-legged in a circle next to Drax and across from Rocket and Groot, poking at a device that reminded Steve a lot of a Starkpad. Peter and Gamora were a short distance away, having a conversation of their own. 

"What'cha doing, Bucky?" Steve asked. 

Bucky hit his lip and tapped the device a few times, not looking up. "Makin'a list," he said. "Of all the stuff I'm not supposed to do. So I remember." He tapped some more.

Steve winced. He really hadn't meant to upset Bucky, but lists were one of the ways the therapists suggested to help keep him grounded, impractical and useless as they were when Bucky was in combat, or thought there might be a threat and defaulted to his training.

''What have you got so far?" he asked, determined to be supportive.

''Um..." Bucky scrolled up. "Don't murder people."

"Hmph," Drax said. "What if they irritate you?"

''You can't just murder someone because they irritate you!" Steve protested.

Drax looked unimpressed. "Fine. I'll spare them unless they irritate me a lot."

"Don't murder someone unless they irritate you a lot," Bucky amended to his list.

"Bucky, no!"

"What about stealing?" Rocket teased. "You know stealing's okay, right?"

"No stealing!" Steve pointed at Rocket. "Stop being an asshole!" Rocket sniggered and Steve pointed at Drax, whose sudden claim on Bucky was one he really hadn't wrapped his mind around yet. "And you! Stop being... supportive."

''No," Drax said. 

Bucky sighed and rubbed his temples as he let the device fall over in his lap. It was a sure sign of one of his headaches and Steve hit back the urge to start yelling at everyone for it.

"I know what good and bad is, Steve." Bucky picked up the device again. "S'why I'm trying to do this. While I can think." He rubbed his forehead with the back of one hand. "It's a good day."

Steve let himself relax. "I'm glad," he said, though it didn't look like one of Bucky's good days at all. It looked like he was fighting tooth and claw to hang onto coherence and it was making him miserable. "Um, what else is on your list?"

Bucky squinted at his screen and a hint of a mischievous smile touched his lips for an instant. "Don't put your dick anywhere Steve says it shouldn't go," he teased. 

With his fair complexion, Steve couldn't help himself. He blushed.

"Hah!" Rocket laughed. "You change colour even more than Quill does!"

"I am Groot," Groot agreed. 

Drax sniffed derisively. "Having only one 'dick' as you call them, it's inefficient." Bucky blinked at him in surprise and then looked rather intently at his crotch.

"You have more than one?" Steve blurted.

"I have two, naturally," Drax said and didn't even flinch when Bucky pulled his pants open enough to confirm that for himself.

"Bucky, no!" Steve shouted.


	20. Chapter 20

When Gamora finally said they'd arrived, Bucky was leaning against Drax's side. That was because Drax was warm and liked it when Bucky was close, and because Bucky was afraid that if he tried that with Steve, he'd forget himself again and try to kiss him. 

He climbed to his feet and checked his weapons, as well as the tablet with the list on it. It was awkward to manage all of it, but he was going to stay focused. He was going to remember what Steve said. He'd said... what was it he'd said? Bucky nearly missed disembarking in time trying to find the right note on the screen.

"Bucky, move it!" Steve shouted just as Drax grabbed his arm and yanked him off the slider. He landed heavily and looked up at Steve's worried face. "Bucky, what's wrong? You almost got left behind." 

"Sorry," Bucky managed and it was a struggle to articulate even that much. The fog wanted him back and it was closing in, leaving him fighting to hold on when it would be so much easier to give in, so much less painful. His head was pounding worse than the chair and one of his eyes wouldn't focus at all. But he couldn't let go. He remembered almost hurting Steve.

He remembered other things too, memories normally obscured by the fog. He'd killed people, first in the war and then for Hydra. He'd killed so very many people for Hydra during the years when he didn't have a choice.

Worse came later, when he was free from Hydra and DID have one. He'd stabbed Sam, attacked Thor and Tony, shot Natasha, pointed a gun at Pepper... He'd forgotten they were his friends.

He couldn't afford to forget who his friends were again.

So he held on, following the team as it went deeper into the complex, watched Rocket and Groot's six like he'd promised, and hurt so badly he wished he would die.


	21. Chapter 21

If it weren't for Gamora, this mission wouldn't have had a chance to succeed. The sheer amount of forethought and planning she'd put into infiltrating Thanos' facilities reminded Steve of Natasha in its elegance and thoroughness. Right now, Gamora wasn't a daughter of Thanos, easily recognizable and known to be a defector. She was instead an anonymous officer, just highly ranked enough to have the access they needed and the authority to send people scurrying to do her slightest bidding. Steve was also pretty sure it wasn't the only false identity she'd created for herself, long before she abandoned the life she'd known for the majority of her existence.

If this place was anything like the location where she'd been raised, Steve couldn't blame her. It was a hub of frantic activity, where violence and even death was handed out quickly for the slightest mistakes. People lived either in a glut of power or in constant fear, especially the creatures that Steve realized quickly enough were slaves.

"Why have slaves when you have so much technology to do the work?" he asked angrily as they passed one of many aliens hunched over the floors, cleaning with primitive scrub brushes they dipped into buckets. A very large part of him wanted to rise up and free them, but he was soldier enough to know that would get all of them killed, including any slaves. Freedom in a place such as this wouldn't come so directly.

Gamora turned the black face of her helmet towards the slave and then away again. "It's to shame them, remind them they're nothing, and remind others there are worse fates than death." She sounded indifferent, Steve thought, but the reminder that she'd chosen to flee this life eased his anger. He didn't think she was truly indifferent at all.

They headed through a plethora of corridors and bridges built without railings, past massive central wells which showed the hundreds of levels both above and below them. Gamora followed a combination of her memory and glowing words that hung in midair. They were in a section with massive rooms filled with machinery and the smell of metal and ozone. They reminded Steve rather a lot of Tony's workshop.

"What do the signs say?" he asked, Peter, who'd been half dancing his way along, headphones in his ears to let him listen to a square music machine hung on his belt. Steve had already heard the entirety of his collection at least three times. Peter didn't notice he'd spoken at first and Steve nudged him.

"Huh? What?" He pulled the headphones out and Steve faintly heard the sound of a boy singing.

"What do the signs say?" Steve asked.

"Oh." Peter looked. "Uh, looks like we're in the cybernetics division."

"I see." Steve wondered if they were more along the lines of Bucky's arm or instead Tony's suits. "You mean enhancements to people?"

"Yeah. It's common in the galaxy. Some jobs make you have enhancements before you can get hired." Peter pointed into one lab they were passing, where Steve could see an alien walking on four metal legs. They looked like they had some sort of rocket launcher bolted to them. "I guess Thanos is big on making his people as nasty as he can. Fought a guy of his once who had a computer installed in his head. One of Gamora's sisters I think was something like eighty percent machine. Tough bitch."

Steve frowned. "Do you have to use that word?"

"Trust me. That term's mild for her."

They passed through cybernetics, where they apparently not only manufactured the parts, but also inserted them - from the sound of the screaming, usually not with the use of anaesthetics. Steve shot a look at Bucky, worried he'd find this place triggering because of the loss of his own arm, but it was impossible to tell his expression behind the goggles and mask.

After cybernetics came some sort of genetics ward, which was more reminiscent of a futuristic Frankenstein's lair. It consisted of circular laboratories around a central core hundreds of feet high and over a hundred feet across, edged by walkways built without any kind of railing. There was a huge cylinder filled with some kind of viscous fluid in the centre, reaching from the ground floor to the highest level. There were some scientists working in the labs or travelling the walkways, only really distinguishable from the slaves because they weren't on their knees with brushes. Armed probes drifted through the air through the core while there were guards in battle gear stationed every few dozen feet.

"Security looks tight here," Rocket commented, looking around with a sneer on his face. They'd been largely ignored on the trip here, but now the guards looked their way, only to snap their heads back to attention when Gamora turned her helmet in their direction.

"Thanos takes great pride in his monsters," Gamora said. She started towards what looked to be a records room filled with holographic screens.

"Do you know what he's up to here?" Steve asked as they passed another nameless, emaciated slave hunched over its bucket on the floor without really seeing it. The creature started when they passed and stared after them.

"Not entirely," Gamora admitted. "He's expanded his operations here during the last few years. At lot more than I'd thought he had, from the look of it."

"Well, let's get in and out fast," Peter suggested. "I don't like this place."

"Do you fear a fight?" Drax sneered.

"When I'm outnumbered five billion to one, yeah, I kinda do."

They went into the records room, where Gamora imperiously waved the few inhabitants out. They scurried away, bowing as they went.

"How long will it take to find Loki's property?" Steve asked. Drax and Rocket had the doorway covered, weapons out. Drax and Peter watched the room as a whole.

Gamora shrugged as she typed. "Hard to say. Unless he labelled it as 'Loki's property.' Can you give me any sort of better description of it?"

"Loki didn't tell us much. I get that it's not very big."

They all were wearing ear comms, just in case they got separated, and had them on now so they could hear each other without having to raise their voices. As Steve finished speaking, a snort and a whinny sounded over the channel.

"Sleipnir?"

Another snort sounded.

Rocket looked back at them. "He says to do a search for 'jotnar gestation sequences,'" he said.

Gamora got to work. Steve looked at Rocket. "You seriously understand him?"

"Sure, just got to listen."

"I am Groot," Groot agreed.

"I've got something," Gamora said.

Steve leaned over her shoulder as she typed, bringing up files in a language he had no hope of reading. He looked back to see the others still in their places, ready for action. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any. So far, everyone was so terrified of Gamora's persona that he was almost ready to think they could get away with anything.

"What have you got?" he asked Gamora.

She turned her blank face towards him. "It's a womb," she told him.

He blinked at that. "What?"

"It's a uterus," she clarified. "They have it in that cylinder outside, in the well. They've been breeding armies using it." She typed a bit more. "First experiment was something called the Chitauri."

Steve felt sick. Those aliens who attacked New York were Loki's children? He shook his head. "How is that even possible? There were hundreds of Chitauri. They all came out of one womb?"

"It's the womb of a god," Gamora said. "So yes, they did."

No wonder Loki wanted it back. Steve wondered what he thought about the deaths of his children and then wondered something else. "Did Loki volunteer his uterus?"

"Not according to this."

Steve let out a slow exhale as he gestured Peter over. "Find out how to get to the womb," he told Gamora and she nodded before he turned to Peter.

"What's up?" Peter asked cheerfully. He looked as bug-eyed as Bucky with his mask covering his face, but his stance was relaxed, even as his hands rested on his gun butts.

"We have the location of the object. Getting to it isn't going to be easy though, from the look of it."

"Great. Well, that sucks."

Steve headed for the door. "Come on. I want a lay of the location and your input."

"You got it, Cap!"

Steve passed Bucky and Rocket, both of them standing on either side of the door. There was no one outside other than the slave they'd passed earlier, its back to them as it continued with its work. The edge of the walkway was only a few feet past it, with a jump of at least fifty feet to the edge of the cylinder and hundreds of feet to the ground. The liquid inside of it was faintly green, translucent with shadows within. Steve didn't like to imagine who those shadows were.

He walked right up to the edge of the walk and looked across at it. Somewhere inside of that thing was Loki's womb, unless the entire thing was his womb. Who could even tell when it was a God's? Poor Loki. He shook his head. There was nothing poor about Loki at all.

Peter stepped up beside him, rocking back and forth on his heels as he looked down. "What's the plan, Cap?" he asked.

"The plan is that you finally die!" 

Steve started to turn at the voice, that familiar voice, but the slave he'd essentially ignored was just as fast as he was, and a blade stabbed through his armour with superhuman strength, between his ribs and past his spine. Pain shocked through him, blood coughing over his lips, and in an act of revenge seventy years in the waiting, the Red Skull pushed him off the walkway.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno why these chapters are often so short. They just are.

The Red Skull had never given up on his determination to live up to his destiny. He was Johann Schmidt, the first recipient of the super serum, the greatest intelligence and finest military mind in the history of the world. It was his destiny to rule the world. To rule more than the world, now that he knew of what existed beyond the paltry bounds of Earth.

He'd had a touch of that power through the Tesseract. It had been his tool, making him like unto a god. Millions feared the very sound of his name and even the fuehrer looked upon him with hesitation, knowing in his heart that he was in the presence of his better.

The only one who hadn't accepted his place at the Red Skull's feet was the Captain, that pathetic peasant that Erskine thought to replace him with. The man with the plan as they called him, who would never just lie down and die the way he should have. Schmidt's hatred for Rogers had been a thing of legend all on its own, even though they only met one another twice. Once in a battle that Schmidt surely would have won if Arnim Zola hadn't caused them to separate. The second on the plane from which Schmidt was taken.

He would have won at their second meeting as well, on that plane he'd intended to carry death to America. Failure that day hadn't been Schmidt's fault. It was Rogers who broke the containment holding the Tesseract and it would have been lost if Schmidt hadn't picked it up.

Zola had no idea what the Tesseract truly was. He'd thought it a power source, used it as such to create weapons and to trigger the evolution of the super soldier serum in that captured soldier. It was so much more than that, oh yes. The Tesseract was a doorway, from the Earth to the far side of the galaxy, and when Schmidt touched it with his bare skin, he was transported there.

A lesser man would have died during the transfer. Schmidt survived, but the immense pressures that had been put on him left him temporarily weak. Weak enough that he'd been taken prisoner by the monsters in this place, who looked at him and were foolish enough not to see his greatness.

For seventy years, Schmidt had been a slave, waiting for an opportunity to escape the bonds used to hold him. He survived where others didn't and became, if still a slave, also the most feared by those who shared his rank. Not even the enforcers were feared by the slaves of this mausoleum as greatly as was the Red Skull.

One day, he knew he would escape and have his revenge. He hadn't, however, expected his revenge to come to him. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, in this of all places. Still a generous and naive fool, blind to the true dangers around him. Part of Schmidt wanted to savour the chance to stalk, to intimidate, to kill, but he'd been waiting for seventy years and he would be denied no longer. 

He had a shiv, had other weapons as well, stolen and hoarded. Those who called themselves masters didn't care, and even if they should, any retribution would be worth it.

The Captain passed him, not expecting his greatest enemy to be so close, and Schidt rose up behind him, truly the Red Skull again as he sank the ten inch blade as deeply though the man's armour and into his back as he could, angling for the heart and lungs. Even a super soldier could die, especially when Schmidt then pushed him off the edge of the walkway to his certain end hundreds of feet below.

The man beside him screeched like a woman and went over the side after him, flailing his arms like a fool eager for his own death. Schmidt's death grin started to spread when he sensed something behind him, born of an instinct honed in a galaxy where death came without warning, even for the strong.

He turned and braced himself, for death was coming straight for him now, dressed all in black except for the shine of a silver arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I really, truly appreciate everyone's comments. Honestly, the more I get, the faster I write. I'd answer all of them, but I can never think of what to say. I'm really lame that way. Sorry.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame Suzukiblu for the Kevin Bacon comment. I couldn't resist.

Peter fell off the walkway when he tried to grab Cap.

It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been expecting some asshole with a creepy face to stab his childhood hero in the back and shove him into freefall. He should get points for reflexes and the fact that he managed to grab the harness crossing his back at all.

It also wasn’t his fault that Cap apparently weighed about six hundred tons.

He plummeted off the edge with his hand still gripping Cap’s harness, the soprano sounds of Michael Jackson crooning about how he wants one more chance pretty much drowned out by his shrieking. Cap was a limp weight, blood spreading over his back as he fell. Everyone was yelling over the comms, from Rocket’s swearing and Groot’s grooting to Drax urging Bucky in doing something apparently violent and Gamora shouting for Peter to be the Kevin Bacon she knew he could be.

That last part got through his panic. Peter’s other hand flailed until it also caught a grip on Cap’s harness and he pulled hard at the same time he swung his legs downward. The moment he had them both about even in the air and his feet pointing at the ground, he activated his boot jets.

They really weren’t designed for flying. Short jumps, sure, but they didn’t have a whole lot of power and they were notoriously hard to steer with. Worse, his feet weren’t pointed quite as directly at the ground as he’d hoped and Cap’s weight pulled him even more off balance.

They both went shooting across the open space in the well of the complex, still heading downwards but now at more of an angle that was taking them directly towards that central cylinder with all the liquid and – now that he was up close and could see them – monstrously huge bodies floating in it. 

Peter barely managed to turn them so that Cap took the brunt of the impact. He didn’t want to, but if he hit first and was hurt or killed, he wouldn’t be able to help Cap at all and they’d both be dead. Cap slammed into the cylinder first proved quite effectively that the material composing it was delicate when the entire thing shattered.

Peter and Cap went down in a waterfall of artificial amniotic fluid and glass, Peter’s boots sputtering and misfiring as they were drenched. They dropped over fifty feet and landed in the pool that had already formed in the basin of the well’s floor. Peter landed hard and splashed his way to the surface, glad of his mask since otherwise he’d have swallowed about a gallon of this crap.

The place was chaos, alarms going off and security probes zooming in circles where they hadn’t been knocked into the water by the sudden deluge. There were scientists and guards struggling to swim as well, to varying degrees of success, and there were other things in the water too. Right after Peter surfaced, while he was still getting his bearings, he saw something monstrous and fanged lunge out of the water, capturing a six limbed Dorshelit in its jaws, then submerge.

“Fuck!” Peter swore and peered around for Cap. Those things had come out of the cylinder and he didn’t want to know how many of them were swimming around looking for a free lunch. A Kree guard went down and the water flared with weapons discharges. The security probes zeroed in on that spot and opened fire. The water frothed and turned black.

Cap was a few meters away, floating face down. Peter didn’t worry he’d drowned, not with his mask on, but he did worry he’d bleed to death, or attract something hungry. He ditched his heavy coat with a pang of regret and swam over, hooked an arm around Cap’s neck, and started to tow him behind as he stroked for a set of stairs leading out of the impromptu swimming pool. 

“This sucks!” Peter shouted over the comms.

Immediately, yells and whinnies asking how he was sounded in return, trumped by Gamora’s yell. “Peter! Get the womb!”

“OH SURE!” he screamed. “WHY THE FUCK NOT? IT’S NOT LIKE I’M BUSY HERE!”

“Never mind,” she sighed. “Rocket will get it.”

“Say what?” Rocket snapped. “What the fuck do you mean, Rocket will get IIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTT!”

Peter sniggered at the sudden splashing sound. “Tossed him off the edge, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Gamora said.

“Groot didn’t go with him, did he?” 

“Of course not, I grabbed him first. I think it’s time to go to Plan B, Peter.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Boy do I wish I’d thought of one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Bucky gets cranky!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I write, especially when I write combat, I always have to remind myself to use all of the senses. Sight, sound, hearing, touch. Not always taste, but if I forget any of the others, it always feels in the reading like people are fighting in a vacuum.

The Winter Soldier was in control.

He moved towards the man with the red skull for a face, the man who'd stabbed Rogers in the back and pushed him over the edge of the walkway, the man Bucky ignored because he was trying so hard to be good, to remind himself that he had friends; that he had to focus on being careful, on not hurting the innocent.

Bucky let that man kill Rogers because he convinced himself that anyone the others called a slave in this place actually would be innocent.

The Soldier moved towards the killer with fluid speed, his hands drawing knives sheathed at his back. He would kill this man, cut him apart; that was all. There was nothing afterwards.

The enemy turned towards him, teeth bared in a mouth without lips, and he brought up the bloody shiv, drawing another with his other hand. Crude things, jagged pieces of metal with the grasped end wrapped in some sort of cloth, the metal dark with who knew what kind of corrosion or filth. Strong enough to meet the ceramic edge of his with a sickening clang as he lashed in a downward arc with the left hand. The Skull blocked it and jumped back as the Soldier's right knife swept around to gut him. He almost ended the battle right then by going backwards off the walkway, but he lurched sideways to safety in time, hissing through his teeth. There was sweat beading his red skin and he reeked of human sweat and the acrid stench of cleansers.

The container in the centre of the well exploded. The Soldier only noticed it peripherally. Impact damage, fracture of material, scent of meat and sludge, liquid deluge and a flood into the lower sections of the building. Nothing he had to concern himself with. His target was unaffected.

He lunged again. The Skull had experience with knives, brute force and cruelty if not outright training. Not as refined in technique as the Soldier was trained to be, but tough enough to take a hit, fast enough to avoid needing to, ruthless enough to press any advantage he saw. 

There were screams and yelling from below, splashes and the roar of things not human but hungry. The Soldier didn't listen to them, or to the voices sounding over his comms or even Drax's voice yelling encouragement and advice. There was only the fight.

They circled, the fight moving along the walkway, midway between the curving wall and the drop to the new lake below. The Soldier ducked down, slashed a backhand move towards the Skull's belly that he just barely avoided and flipped the knife in  
midair, catching it reversed in the other direction so he could bring the new grip back across the Skull's chest. Fabric parted as he cut through the enemy's shirt, along with a thin line of blood, but it was a light tagging, not good enough. 

"Fool," the Skull hissed. "You are nothing against me. "I am the Face of Hydra!"

"I'm the Fist," the Soldier said and blocked the man's downward slash with his metal arm before snapping it forward, shrugging the blow off along its metal length as he punched the Skull straight in the nose. He howled and staggered back, one shiv broken against the Soldier's arm and abandoned as he reached for his nose.

The Soldier attacked, right arm extended now, and with a roar, the Skull dropped both shivs and grabbed the Soldier's wrist, turned, dropped his weight, and threw him over his shoulder and along the length of the walkway towards the edge. The Soldier spun on the floor, losing his knives, and dug his metal hand down to stop his momentum. Agony flared through where the machine attached to his shoulder, but he stopped and rolled back to his feet.

There were aerial probes zooming around in the air above where they were and in the well of the complex, guards further beyond watching in confusion. Gamora was grabbing Rocket by the scruff of the neck and tossing him over the edge of the walkway while Groot sat in his pot in the bend of her elbow and beat at her side with his strengthless hands. Drax cheered the Soldier on, fists raised and eyes gleaming with pride.

None of them mattered. None of them were combatants in this fight. None of them had been any use in keeping Rogers alive. Only the enemy mattered, standing in battle position a few meters away, his shivs recovered and ready.

Fuck him and his shivs. There was no honour in battle requiring the Soldier to meet him on equal footing. The Soldier pulled a machine pistol out of its holder on its back and pointed it at the suddenly wide-eyed Skull. Behind him, Gamora swore and went diving for one of the laboratories, Groot held close, and even Drax blinked and moved to get out of the way.

The Soldier opened fire. Machine pistols fired a great many bullets at high speed. They were good for providing cover, hard to aim with any great reliability, quick to overheat and empty. Even a few second holding the trigger was enough   
to bring the muzzle up and waste ammo firing too high. The Soldier was strong, however, strong enough to keep the muzzle down, and his opponent was only a few body lengths away.

The Skull saw the same outcome to their fight that the Soldier planned and dove to his right, across the floor and straight for the edge of the walkway. The Soldier followed him with the arc of his weapon, firing bullets into the floor just shy of him. The Skull was fast, faster by far than anyone else the Soldier had fought, other than Rogers. He went over the edge, below the angle that the Soldier could aim at. He bolted forward in pursuit.

Security probes darted down, opening fire on him with some sort of laser pulses, reminiscent of the weapons Hydra used during the second world war. Contact would mean physical dissolution. The arm wasn't guaranteed to block them; likely it would end up destroyed as well. 

The Soldier dodged, zig-zagging as fast as he could and faster than the probes could react, his arm bringing the machine pistol up in an arc of fire that caught all three of them. Necessarily made out of thin metal, they ruptured and exploded and he tossed the empty pistol away as he dove after his enemy.

He was just fast enough to see where the Skull had gone.

###

This was not a fight that Schmidt was going to win. Not this way, with a disadvantage in weapons and nowhere to take cover. Rogers was an easy ambush, but in a straight out fight, Schmidt knew he'd have been a challenge he'd be pressed to the limit to beat.

This... creature... was worse. Ruthless, strong, heavily armed, and with none of Rogers' compassion to give him hesitation. This warrior wouldn't stop for mercy. He wouldn't stop for anything at all. 

This was the one Schmidt should have ambushed, if only he'd known. Now he had to concede that this battle wasn't in his favour and escape, before the chaos below cleared enough for security to come in. They'd go after these interlopers and this assassin, but there was too much chance they'd eliminate any inconvenient slaves they saw as well and Schmidt had learned when to press his advantages and when to flee.

In dodging the machine gun fire, he went straight off the edge edge of the walkway. Far below was the frothing maelstrom that was the remains of the gestation tube, but he knew what had been breeding within it, even if the bulk of the security drones hadn't been focused down there, along with the scientists and most of the guards. 

Schmidt twisted in midair, his serum-augmented speed and strength saving him yet again as he caught the edge of a lower walkway, fingers digging straight into the tough, plastic-based material, and he then used his momentum to swing himself down onto the level just below that. Level thirteen. He knew it well after decades of cleaning it. He also knew every passcode and access route the fools in charge had ever been negligent enough to leave open for someone to access.

Schmidt landed on the walkway and rolled, skidding to the open door into a laboratory before he was able to regain his feet. He'd torn his only set of clothing and he had a slight knife cut along his abdomen, already healing, but Rogers was dead. He didn't care if he was forced to clean all of that mess below with his tongue. Rogers was dead!

The Red Skull threw his head back and started to laugh.

Then the metal armed assassin swung down onto the walkway Schmidt was on, exactly the same way Schmidt had, and landed lightly a dozen feet away, long hair framing his masked face as he lifted his head to look straight at Schmidt. In the same motion, he drew a handgun.

Schmidt swore and ran into the laboratory, keying the door shut behind him. It wasn't strong, being only a simple barrier for privacy, and seconds later, the metal hand punched straight through it.

Schmidt turned and ran.


	25. Chapter 25

Peter had to drag Cap through amniotic fluid deeper than he was tall, past drowned scientists and waterlogged, sometimes still sparking equipment, and around frothing patches where newborn horrors were having breakfast. They he hauled him up a set of stairs into a higher corridor that was merely wet instead of flooded, and then a few dozen feet down it to where it looked like it might be safe for a few seconds. All of it before he could even check for a pulse.

Cap was breathing. Peter nearly threw up, his relief was so great. There was a lot of blood though, more than he’d thought a person really could have inside them. Whoever that fuckhead was, he’d got him good. And spoke English while he was doing it. Peter kind of wondered about that, but mostly he hoped that his teammates took the bastard apart up there.

He rolled Cap over onto his front and looked at the wound, reaching into one of his belt pouches for a wound sealant. It was bad. The blade had punched straight through his armour and dragged across his back between two of his ribs before being pulled out. Bubbles frothed through the blood that was pouring out and Peter would have bet that there was some kind of lung damage. Maybe even heart damage. Probably heart damage, if he correctly remembered where a human heart actually was.

He was no doctor and the best he knew was how to slap a bandage on something. Lucky for him, galactic medicine made bandaging real easy. He shook the can and sprayed the sealant over the wound. It closed it immediately. It was only a temporary fix, but it would keep Cap from bleeding out before he could find help.

Peter was still doing a liberal spray when a monster erupted out of the water at the stairs and lunged for him. He didn’t get a really good look at it, other than seeing it had a whole lot of teeth and a throat he could probably fit into. Peter drew a gun and shot it repeatedly, including a few times after he was pretty sure it was dead.

“I officially hate this place,” he muttered as he stood and dragged Cap’s limp body up and across his shoulders. “Oh fuck, my knees are never going to forgive me.

“Gamora, Drax, Rocket, give me a sitrep,” he called as he stumbled as quickly as he could down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going yet other than away from the chaos. 

“I’m here, Peter,” Gamora said. “Still on the floor we were on. I’m retreating with Groot and Drax before more security gets here. Meet us at the slider walk. Intersection A6H5967-B.”

“Gotcha.” It made sense. They had to take the damn slider walk back anyway and there’d be signs pointing to it. “I gotta get Cap some sort of medical help first, though. If I’m not there in three hours, head back and wait for me at the ship. Sleipnir, is it quiet in the hangar bay?” A whinny answered him. “Right. Why the fuck am I asking you?” Hopefully there’d be so much chaos here that no one would care what anyone was up to over there. “Rocket? How are you doing? Got the thing?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the word ‘womb’.

“Fuck you, Quill,” Rocket coughed. He sounded quite waterlogged. “I fucking hate you all.” There was a sudden flurry of gunfire. “GET THE FUCK OFF MY ASS, YOU BLAFTZAGATING MASTICHAQ!”

Peter turned down the volume on his comm. He was hurrying past machine rooms, various aliens peering fearfully out the door at him while he passed. Guards headed by for the area he’d left as Peter pointed them that way. The alarm was still blaring and in the tight quarters, it was loud enough to hurt like hell. He turned the outer hearing intakes on his helmet down too.

“Did you get it, Rocket?” he asked again.

“Of course I fucking got it! And when I catch up to Gamora, I’m going to feed it to her, ass first!”

“Now, now,” Peter chided. “That’s no way to feel the love.”

“I swear, Quill, I’m making a list and I’m going to blow the hell out of everyone on it, and you’re climbing up to the top real fucking fast!”

Cap shifted on his shoulders, Peter unsure if that was because he was starting to wake up or because Peter was about to drop him. He really wished Drax were here to do the heavy lifting. Ahead, he saw signs for the genetics experimentation section they’d passed through earlier. Genetics meant fleshy bits and experiments meant operating rooms. Hopefully. Peter tried to walk faster.

“Peter,” Gamora said, over top of Rocket’s toilet mouth. “We lost Bucky.”

Peter frowned. “How do you lose a six foot tall assassin with the brain of a five-year-old?”

“He went after the being who stabbed the Captain. I believe he’s going to kill him.”

“Great. Good for him.” Peter tapped his comm. “Yo, Bucky. Buck, dude. You there? You know you have the same name as Cap’s old friend in the war? And people thought I was gonna fail history.”

There was no answer.

“He’s ignoring his comms,” Gamora pointed out.

“I noticed. Great. What’s a bit more chaos in the middle of a cluster fuck? Can you track him by his comm?”

“Yes. My access will let me use the central system in the complex to-“ 

“Save me the details. Go find him, get him to the rendezvous.”

Drax’s voice interrupted. “No. I will use the computers and find him.”

“Not unless you’ve learned how to type in the last week,” Peter pointed out. “You get to the slider walk. Take Groot and wait for Rocket. Gamora will get Bucky and I’ll meet you with Cap.”

“But-“

Peter would have flailed his arms if it hadn’t meant dropping his burden. “For once, can you just listen to me? Do what I said! Gamora will rescue your baby!”

“He is not a baby. Among my people, he would be a calf.”

“Your people are fucking weird, Drax.” Ahead was a sign for an operating bay. Peter kicked the door open and pointed his gun at a trio of skinny aliens who’d been dissecting something he carefully didn’t try to identify.

“Hi!” he said. “Busy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, alien swearing. Accomplished via keyboard smash. :)


	26. Chapter 26

Schmidt ran, through the maze of corridors and laboratories, always headed along the most twisted routes he could, past the greatest number of obstacles possible; shelves and supplies he could push over to block the way behind him, doors he could lock or barricade. Anything to slow that vicious little bastard down. 

He'd given up on looking for places to put an ambush. The assassin was too well armed and ready for that.

The Soldier chased him, not able to gain on his enemy but easily keeping up. The Skull kept going around twists and turns, keeping anything he could between them. Still, the Soldier looked for his chance. It came when the Skull ran around one corner and when the Soldier followed, he saw the corridor ahead was just a little longer than the last one and the Skull was still in sight, only now reaching the next corner. 

Immediately he had twin pistols out and was firing. Both bullets hit their target and the Skull lurched around the corner, bleeding and staggering with double wounds in his back. The Soldier continued to run after him, his arms pumping with the pistols still gripped in them.

Alarms blared overhead, different from the ones before. Without the distraction of ten tons of amniotic fluid pouring out everywhere, the response here was immediate. The Soldier banked around the corner to see security probes heading straight towards him, levitating above the head of the still fleeing Skull.

The Soldier lifted his guns and opened fire, taking out the first of the probes with his initial volley and then focusing on the other three. They had some sort of self-preservation programming and tried to dodge even as they fired back at him. The Soldier vaulted and twisted over and around the beams, fired again to take out the third and fourth, and dropped his now empty pistols even as he pulled another, heavier weight gun off of his lower hip. It only took one bullet to destroy the last of the probes with it.

Despite his wounds, the Skull had taken the opportunity to vanish through another door, this one far heavier than the ones before. The Soldier slammed into it and rebounded when the metal held.

He didn't hesitate. An explosive against the lock, a moment to take the briefest of cover, and he blew the door wide open.

Howls sounded from inside, along with inhuman screaming. The Soldier ran inside to see that this was a specialist lab for studying animals, some kind of heavy beast the size of a tiger, hairless and thick skinned with crests of bone and spikes along their spines. The Soldier saw a flash of a great many teeth and claws and massive, fish-like eyes, but mostly he saw that the half dozen or so of the creatures loose in the lab were busy tearing the scientists who'd been studying and dissecting them apart. The front of the cages they'd been kept in had been opened and there was no sign of the Skull.

The Soldier headed straight for the closed door on the other side of the lab. He didn't make it as one of the animals leaped at him, jaws wider than the Soldier would have expected they could go. 

He swung his arm towards it immediately and fired. The bullet hit the beast centre of mass, right in the chest, and bounced off its thick skin. It slammed into him a moment later, three quarters of a ton of rage and hunger. He barely got his metal arm up between them in time and it chomped down, straight through the limb, and electricity arced up through them both.

Bucky screamed, suddenly Bucky again at the horrible, familiar pain. He fell back and watched as the creature swallowed his hand down its gullet and then looked towards him, its long jaw curved in a permanent grin that showed its teeth, tusks pointing upwards on either side of its nose nearly a foot long. Its eyes were solid black and bulbous, fish-like as it hunched over on powerful front legs and shorter rear ones. It grinned at him. Done killing the scientists, all of them looked at him.

"No no no no...." He scrambled backwards on his butt, struggling for purchase on the bloody ground. His arm was still firing sparks and misfiring signals of pain to his brain. Metal poked him in the back and with a surge of adrenaline, he scrambled into the cage he'd backed up to and pulled the door shut. The animals slammed against the door, trying to bite through the bars to reach him, but whatever the cages were made of, they were strong enough to stop them.

Bucky moved towards the back of the large cage, clutching his metal arm to his chest and gasping for breath. He wanted Steve, wanted Steve, needed Steve. Where was Steve? Steve was dead. Steve couldn't be dead!

"Drax!" he wailed over the comm channel. "Drax, help me!"

Drax answered immediately. "I am coming, my calf!"

"Don't you fucking dare!" Rocket snapped. "You gotta help me carry this disgusting thing!"

"Stay with Rocket, Drax," Gamora ordered. "We're split up enough as it is. Peter is with Steve. I'll be at Bucky's location in three dakigs. And all of you stay off the comms unless it's an emergency. They'll find our channel soon, if they haven't already."

Bucky pushed back into the warm, somehow pliable back corner of the cage, still in pain and afraid. His head was a mess, but he tried to think. Gamora said Steve was with Peter. Did that mean Steve was alive? He let out a gasp and leaned back, forgetting about the animals still trying to break into his cage in that moment of hope.

His pillow grunted.

Bucky blinked and looked back over his shoulder into massive, black, fish-like eyes.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter again, but more is coming soon, unless I get the PS3 controller away from my husband....

Steve woke abruptly, his head spinning, his back throbbing, and possessed by an undeniably strong urge to throw up.

"Eww!" Peter yelped as Steve, draped over his shoulders, nailed the back of his coat. Purely unintentionally, Peter dropped him.

Steve landed on the floor and for a moment he could just lie there. He felt... he didn't know for sure how he felt. Like he had when he was first given the serum. Exhausted beyond belief and yet more powerful than he could imagine.

"What happened?" he gasped as he looked up at a rather blurry Peter.

"You got stabbed through the back," Peter told him while he grimaced and wiped the sick off his jacket. "Through the heart too, from what they told me." He made a face at the jacket and tossed the cloth he'd used on it away before pulling it back on. 

"I was stabbed through the heart?" Steve managed. "What?" He didn't remember that. All he did remember was walking out of a lab and looking at the cylinder in the centre of the well. Then there was pain and shock and the sensation of falling. 

Peter reached down and offered Steve a hand. Steve took it and Peter helped pull him to his feet. "I got you out of there, found some scientist types to operate on you. They weren't happy about it; I think they're more used to taking people apart instead of putting them together, but a gun in their face was a great motivator."

Steve frowned. "How would they even know what to do with a human?" 

"How'd they know what to do with any alien?" Peter shrugged. "I guess doctors here are more like vets on Earth. They can figure out any species. You look better. I thought I was going to have to carry you all the way back to the rendezvous. You're goddamned heavy, Captain. My back's never going to be the same."

Steve nodded. "I owe you my life then," he said, but even as Peter looked pleased, Steve's mind was on other things. He could hear what definitely sounded like an alarm, distant from where they were, which was in the middle of a corridor similar to the ones they'd used to get to the cylinder room, if narrower. A sub corridor, he guessed. A back route for people of less importance and therefore the best route to carry someone unconscious. The two of them were alone.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"Headed for the rendezvous," Peter told him. "Rocket got the womb." Inexplicably, he grinned at that. "Um, Drax is with him, and Groot. Gamora went after Bucky."

Steve's head snapped towards him. "Where is Bucky?"

"He took off after the guy who stabbed you."

Of course he did. Steve reached for the comm attached to his helmet and Peter grabbed his arm. "Don't. We've gone to radio silence. Too much chance they'll pick up on our transmissions now. We're going to rendezvous at the slider walk we came in on. Don't have much other choice."

Steve didn't like it, but he was a soldier. He understood when necessity trumped personal desires. He straightened up, his body not feeling nearly as healed as he needed it to be, and nodded.

"We better get moving then," he said.


	28. Chapter 28

Bucky stared into bulbous eyes so black that they reflected his shocked, frightened face. All he could do was stare for a second, and then the fear inside him shook itself loose and he scrambled with a scream to the other back corner of the cage.

The - he didn't know what it was - raised its head and looked at him over its shoulder while the other monsters either continued to try and tear into the cage or, more often, headed out the door he'd blown open to find someone else to eat.

Bucky stared back, panting, his half gone arm still throwing sparks and hurting. It sent shocks of confusion through his brain and brought tears to his eyes.

It was so hard to think, the fog back with a vengeance and made dangerous now from the pain flashing through it. He wanted to get away from it all, wanted to sleep, wanted to curl up with someone who would protect him and let him rest. He wanted Steve. Wanted Drax. Wanted someone to come find him and just make everything go away.

The creature in the cage with him had been lying in the other corner, faced away from him. Its tail was thick and tapered like a dinosaur's and it had it tucked up against its hindquarters. It kept its head turned towards him, nostrils moving as it tried to get a good sniff, but Bucky couldn't take his eyes off the tusks jutting up from its jaw. It had tusks that pointed down as well, but the upper ones were so much longer. He had combat knives shorter than those things.

There was mass chaos and crashing sounds outside, howls and not-quite-barks, but inside the cage it was too quiet. Neither Bucky nor the animal made a sound and that was somehow more terrifying, as if the silence were just a precursor to it deciding to lunge for him and tear his throat out.

"Good puppy," he whispered, just to end that silence. "You're a good puppy, aren't you?"

The creature lifted its head up a little higher, looking directly at him. The lighting was too dim for him to really pick out details, but he could tell that it was an orangey red in colour, with darker, spotted stripes across it. The heavy bone crest on its spine had the same colour stripes but the base of it was more grey than orange. It whuffed at the sound of his voice and Bucky swallowed. "You don't want to eat me, right?"

The creature shuffled itself around until its body faced him and it edged closer, head low to the ground and belly flat to the floor. While it did, it made a sound in its throat that sounded almost as afraid as Bucky. He pulled his knees up as it edged closer, its body hunched together as it stretched its short neck as far as it would go and sniffed the toe of Bucky's boot. The Winter Soldier would have shot it. At the very least he would have kicked it in the head. Bucky held his breath and tried as hard as he could to seem harmless. 

After another painfully long and tense minute, the creature seemed to come to the conclusion that he wasn't a threat. It drew its head back and slowly started to edge itself around again, belly still flat to the floor as it moved, never looking directly at him until it seemed almost accidental that the two of them ended up side by side in the cage, sharing body warmth and company while its more homicidal relatives rampaged outside.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: Added some art at the bottom. Its not from this chapter, actually, but it shows what Bucky's new friend looks like.

Gamora resisted any instinct she had to run. The alarms were still blaring, security teams being called to manage the disaster they'd left behind, but that was no guarantee that someone wouldn't start to think maybe they should spread their forces out more, to find whoever it was that caused the disaster in the first place. Her cover was excellent, the best it could be, but it wasn't flawless. She wasn't from this place, had never actually been here before, even if her codes did work. There were things she didn't know. It was the lack of casual information that was most likely to trip her up, so her safest defence was to not draw attention to herself.

Peter and the others would probably be doing enough of that on their own.

The comm signal she was following led her into the biological experimentation wards. Animal experimentation. Sometimes they were turned into weapons. Other times, the genes from those animals ended up spliced into Thanos' daughters.

She heard the varren's coarse barking and the sound of their claws on the floor before she saw them, and fortunately before they saw her. Varren were vermin, fast breeding and utterly vicious, native to a miserable wreck of a planet called Tachunka, where only the utterly vicious could survive. The Krogun used them sometimes as guard and fight animals, but the Krogun were insane, and honestly more vicious than the varren.

Gamora jumped up, caught one of the pipes that ran along the ceiling, and pulled herself up until she held herself horizontal just underneath the ceiling.

The pack raced by underneath, unable to smell her thanks to the suit she wore. She dropped down again once they were gone and continued on. If nothing else, the varren would cause even more of a distraction.

She continued forward and found the lab the varren had escaped from, along with the mangled bodies of the scientists who'd undoubtably been torturing them. They were spread out just about everywhere and their blood splashed over her boots as she went inside.

This was also where Bucky's comm signal led. There was no immediate sign of him and she frowned at the idea that the varren killed him as well. Not that she saw any evidence of the young man's body.

Marked cages large enough to hold the various varren were built against the side wall, all but one of them wide open. Gamora went over to it, quickly reading the holographic text before it.

Varren.  
Female.  
Omnivorous diet.  
Removal of reproductive  
organs resulting in 95%  
reduction in aggression.

Not a standard goal for Thanos' scientists, Gamora thought as she peered inside the cage, but from the rest of the notes, it looked like they just planned to dissect her anyway.

Bucky was in the cage, looking nothing like the unstoppable warrior she'd seen only minutes before, despite wearing the same armour. He was sitting curled in the back corner, a skinny varren curled next to him, her head in his lap. He was stroking his flesh hand along the crest of her skull. His left arm was gone not far below the shoulder.

"Bucky," she said. "Hurry up, we have to rendezvous with the others."

Bucky lifted his head and squinted at her, as if he didn't recognize her, and with a huff of frustration, she pulled off her helmet. "We have to go now."

He peered at her and then looked down at the varren, scratching the hide between her eyes. She gave a contented sigh. "It's not safe," he said.

She missed the warrior. This wretch was going to be useless in a fight. "It's not safe here either," she reminded him as she keyed the cage open and reached in to grab him. He immediately started screaming and kicking, the varren barking in distress and trying to get in the way as Gamora dragged him out.

"Stop it!" she yelled at him. "You useless piece of fjalka! This whole mission is going to go to shit because of you and you're going to get Steve killed! You're going to get me killed!"

He froze and stared up at her. "Steve's alive?" There was something back in those eyes, something that couldn't be broken.

"Yes," she said, more than a touch cautious at yet another change in him.

Without another word, Bucky was on his feet and running out the door. The varren stuck her head out the cage door, looked up at Gamora, and then scampered with her belly low out of the cage and then out the door in pursuit of the human.

Gamora grit her teeth, jammed her helmet back on her head, and ran out the door after them both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished a playthrough of Mass Effect 2, which was awesome. I love all the Mass Effect and Dragon Age games. In one mission in Mass Effect 2, my Sheperd met a tame varren that followed him around looking for food. My maxed out paragon Sheperd did everything he could to smuggle that varren on board his ship and keep it, but the damn game wouldn't let me. So this little sweetheart came to be because damn it, I wanted to keep that fish dog!
> 
> This is my version of a varren, btw, and probably is wildly different from canon. Then again, so is Bucky....
> 
> Oh, btw, I keep forgetting to say I have a tumblr account. www.hydraarill.tumblr.com. If anyone is interested.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to see what the varren looks like, I put one of my sketchdumps at the end of the last chapter.

The rendezvous point was the same as they'd left it, the slider walks moving at differing speeds in both direction, filled with people who looked nervously towards where the alarms were coming from. When Steve and Peter arrived, Drax, Groot, and Rocket were already there, seated in a waiting area with benches and trying to look inconspicuous. 

"You are not fucking paying us enough!" Rocket hissed, pointing at Steve with a clawed finger. He was covered in the same slime that Steve woke up soaked in, his fur sticking out in every direction possible while it dried.

"I am Groot," Groot agreed.

Drax dumped something red, fleshy, and skin crawlingly disgusting in Peter's arms. "Here. Take this. I am going for my calf."

"Guys, guys," Peter cheered. "Calm down, everything's fine. The job's going great-"

"You need to work on your definition of great, Quill," Rocket sulked.

"-It's going great," Peter repeated. "And Gamora's on her way." He pointed at Drax. "So don't go running off. You'll just slow everything down." Drax looked stubborn and Peter sighed as he shoved the highly disgusting organ into his bag, which he fully planned to burn once this was over. "You trust Gamora, don't you?"

"I do," Drax said.

"Then trust her to bring Bucky here, okay?"

Reluctantly, Drax went to sit on one of the benches and crossed his arms. Steve stepped up beside Peter. He understood exactly how Drax felt, even if he didn't get where the alien's devotion came from. He itched to run after Bucky himself.

"Gamora can find him?" he asked.

Peter nodded. "They call her the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. They really aren't kidding. She'll get him." He looked at him. After all the chaos and actually being in danger together, some of the hero worship had faded from Peter's eyes. Now he just looked tired. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Steve told him and went back to scanning the milling crowds for any sign of his lover.

Gamora and Bucky arrived ten minutes later, while everyone was getting increasingly squirrelly. There were more security probes in the air and the alarms were still sounding off. It felt more and more like they were about to run out of time. 

When Steve saw them at last, Gamora was walking at a steady pace towards them, Bucky's right arm around her shoulder and her arm around him, holding him up as he sagged against her. Two thirds of his metal arm was gone and every time sparks flew out of the broken end, he spasmed. Some sort of four-legged, orange thing followed close behind them, and whatever it was, it made people scatter out of its way.

"Oh hell," Peter said.

Steve ran forward, and was nearly shoulder checked into the crowd as Drax barrelled up beside him. They both reached them at the same time.

"Bucky, Buck, hey, talk to me," Steve said, frantically cupping Bucky's face with his hands. His eyes were rolled halfway back into his head and blood was dripping out of his nose. He didn't respond to anything other than to convulse whenever his arm sent another shock through him.

"What happened?" Drax demanded as he scooped the man up into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

"He passed out on me halfway here. A varren bit his arm off," Gamora said. Drax immediately turned furious eyes on the orange animal, which cowered straight to the floor. "Not that one. It's been pacified."

"He doesn't answer me," Drax growled after he returned his attention to Bucky.

"Looks like bio feedback to his brain." Gamora strode past him and Steve towards the slider walk. "We need to move." She tapped her comm. "Sleipnir, we're on our way. Neigh if anyone comes near the ship."

Peter looked back and forth between her and where Steve and Drax tried to get a response out of Bucky. "We have to do something, take him to a mechanic or a brain guy or something." 

Gamora stepped up to the edge of the slider walk they needed to take. "No time."

"But I got Cap help that way."

"Still no time. We have to get off this asteroid now."

"Bring him here," Rocket said, ready at the edge of the walk with Groot for them to join him. "I can shut that thing off."

Quickly, Steve and Drax brought Bucky over and the group stepped onto the slider. The varren hesitated at the edge and then surged after them. 

The other people on the slider edged out of the way as they switched over several levels to the one that moved at the fastest speed. There, Drax laid Bucky down and hovered over him as Steve knelt at his side. Every time the arm sparked and Bucky convulsed, he thought he was going to be sick.

Rocket knelt down, muttering to himself as he pulled out some of his tools and went to work, his moves precise enough that Steve was sure even Tony would be impressed. In less han a minute, he had the arm shut down and Bucky went limp, still unconscious but no longer convulsing.

"Thank you," Steve breathed. Drax stroked his hand along Bucky's hair. 

Rocket shrugged. "Was easy enough. This thing is a piece of shit." He turned his head and spat. "He's gonna need a whole new prosthetic."

Peter stood over them, his arms crossed. "Can you make him one, Rocket?"

The little alien looked up. "The arm, sure, but you need a bio expert for the wetware. The connectors look like they're fried all the way up into his brain." 

Steve shuddered. "You... do you know anyone who can do that part?"

"Sure. I got some contacts from back in the old days. They owe me one."

"I am Groot," Groot put in.

"Yeah, I'm almost positive they're still alive. Sheesh, what a cynic."

"Well, I guess we know where we're going next," Peter grinned.

"Thank you," Steve breathed, standing to face him. "All of you, thank you."

"Hey, it's nothing," Peter cheered, punching Steve lightly in the shoulder. "All part of the job. Besides, you really have no idea how much you're paying us."

Steve smiled. "Get us out of here and home and it's all yours." He paused. "Wait, we do have the womb, right?"

"Yes. And it's really disgusting."

Steve started to laugh, just as the walkway shut down. All of the various aliens on it started to murmur.

"What's going on?" Rocket said.

"Someone's finally got their head out of their ass," Gamora snapped and turned to run. "Come on!"

"How can someone get their head into their ass?" Drax asked, even as he scooped Bucky back up and Steve helped him cradle the unconscious man properly. 

"Never mind now," he told him. Someone had figured out where they were, or guessed. Either way, they had to get out of here, if they could. It was a three hour trip by the speed of the walkway to the hangar and none of them could run that fast. Still, they had no other choice and set off as fast as they could manage, Rocket bitching and Peter yelling over the comm to Sleipnir that they were held up and to kick anyone who tried to board his ship. Steve stayed with Drax and Bucky while Gamora took the lead. The varren brought up the rear.

There really wasn't anything else they could do, but from the distance they had to go and the sound of security probes approaching, there was no way they were going to be able to make it after all.


	31. Chapter 31

Thanos’ empire was vast, a huge chunk of the galaxy where personal freedoms didn’t exist and which the rest of the galaxy tried to pretend didn’t exist. Eventually there would be war, since otherwise Thanos would merely swallow up everyone else a planet at a time, but no one was willing to commit to a war just yet. There were too many differences in the peoples of the galaxy for that kind of cooperation to come any time sooner than when the fates of everyone were in danger.

Part of why Thanos hadn’t just rolled over the rest of the universe was because, for all its immense size and power, his empire was too big to move quickly, the bureaucracy which supported it slow to take action. Once it did, however, it was as fast and furious a flow as the deluge of amniotic fluids that exploded out of the smashed cylinder that held Loki’s womb.

Someone had finally realized that the explosion was not merely an accident and that the womb was gone. Which direction the thieves would be forced to go also wasn’t hard to extrapolate.

Hundreds of the armed probes roared down on the frozen slider walk system, all with the image of a group of people recorded on the inevitable security cameras in the lab complex loaded into their software.

In a normal situation, they would open fire as one and vaporize the offenders immediately, but they had to recover Thanos’ stolen property, which meant taking the thieves alive. So instead of using their energy beams or projectile ammunition, they swooped down with grappling arms extended instead.

The first one met its end on Gamora’s sword, even as she drew her sidearm and shot another three. Peter was firing as he ran as well. Rocket couldn’t, burdened with Groot’s pot as he was, until Drax grabbed him up in mid stride and slung him up onto his shoulder with the arm he wasn’t using to cradle Bucky. Rocket passed Groot back down to him and stood upright, balanced on Drax’s shoulder.

“Finally,” he growled and took out a dozen of the machines with heavy rifle fire.

At the first arrival of the probes, Steve had dropped back, covering the rear of the group. He had a gun, but it took several shots from the Earth-based weapon to bring one of the machines down. When any of them came close, to try and grab either him or one of the others with their grapplers, he hit them with the shield. He hadn’t thrown it yet, however. The angles in this place and the openness didn’t leave him hopefully he’d be able to get a good enough return arc to actually get it back.

A sudden, terrified cry sounded behind him and Steve looked back. The other people on the slider had long since scattered in every direction they could, leaving the way in front of them and behind clear, but the varren was still following. Only now a machine had grasped it around the middle and was lifting the frightened animal into the air while it tried to twist itself free or bite.

Steve didn’t even think. He spun and threw his shield as hard as it could. It hit the machine and went straight on through it. The animal dropped to the ground and Steve watched his shield continue to spin away into the distance.

There was no time to get it back. With a pang of real regret, Steve turned back around and kept running, for as long as any of them could. There were even more of the machines swooping down towards them and he was nearly out of reloads.

A few moments later, the varren came up beside him, running along with its head held high and Steve’s shield clamped in its mouth like an oversized Frisbee.

“Good boy!” he cheered and the varren panted happily as he took it back. This time when he threw it, the varren let out a joyful cry and took off after the shield to bring it back once it destroyed its target.

They’d covered no more than a few miles. Steve was fine and Gamora was reminiscent of a gazelle ahead of them. Even Drax seemed to be tireless as he ran steadily along with Bucky in his arms and Rocket shooting at targets from on top of his head. Peter, however, was flagging and dropped back beside Steve, covered in sweat.

“I think… I’m out… of shape…” he panted. “Gonna… puke…”

“Keep running,” Steve told him and grabbed his elbow to help him along. The varren had his shield again and was keeping up with it. Steve hadn’t been able to fathom how it could even get its mouth around the shield with those massive tusks, until he saw it could fold them down like a rattlesnake would.

Then Gamora’s voice sounded over the comm from where she was a fair distance ahead, running point. “We’re in deep shit,” she told them. “Armoured men up ahead.”

“How many?” Rocket asked.

“At least a legion. They’ve got a blockade up across the sliders.”

“Shit,” Peter panted.

“Do you think we can break through them?” Steve asked. Until he got close enough to see for himself, he’d have to trust her intel.

“Unless you’ve got a gunship hidden in your back pocket, no.”

They couldn’t go this way anymore. Even if it was the only unbroken route back to the hangar, they had to find another way. Steve looked around at the. There wasn’t much. As on a subway, they were between egress points and there was nothing but solid walls to either side. Perhaps they could blow a hole through one of them and get out of this gauntlet that way.

Sleipnir sent a whinny over the comms.

“He says incoming!” Rocket translated.

“Fuck!” Peter swore. “They better… not touch… my ship!”

“I have a plan,” Steve told all of them, his tone such that the bitching stopped immediately. “We’re going to-“

“Incoming!” Gamora shouted, and she sounded more surprised than Steve had ever heard her before.

Steve saw what she was looking at half a second later, when the rows of heavily armoured aliens that were just coming into view started to blow up. The security drones that had been harrying the group lifted up and away, rushing forward to the legion’s defence.

The Guardians all slowed to a confused halt. “What the…” Peter staggered at Steve’s side while Steve retrieved his slightly slobbery shield from the Varren. Peter withdrew his helmet and his eyes widened in shock. “THAT’S MY FUCKING SHIP!”

It was. The reaver vessel shot down the length of the slider way, arcing and swooping around the overhead walkways and interspersing columns that made the slider way a ship free zone in the first place. There was no way it should have fit through most of those spaces, but somehow it did, and dodged incoming fire as well, even as it fired nonstop at the legion forces and the airborne probes, with unbelievable accuracy.

“Who the hell is flying it?” Rocket gaped.

“I am Groot!”

“Not possible!”

The ship shot by overhead, low enough that the force of its passage pushed them all down to the floor. It shot another dozen probes out of the air and turned in the tight quarters, dropping low to the ground and tilting forward to provide less of a climb up to the cockpit, where the window was humming open.

Sleipnir poked his head up above the edge of the cockpit and whinnied at them.

“No way,” Peter gasped.

“Move,” Steve told him and grabbing him by the back of his jacket and his belt, he heaved him up onto the nose of the ship. Peter scrambled the rest of the way and fell into the ship’s cockpit, where Steve heard him start to laugh.

Steve turned to help Drax climb up onto the nose of the ship, Bucky held close. Rocket jumped off his shoulder and took Groot before heading inside. Drax nodded at Steve and climbed inside. Gamora didn’t need any help at all as she leaped up and inside with a movement so graceful Natasha would have been taking notes.

Steve climbed up onto the nose and stopped at a whine. The varren was giving him a mournful look, not that he was sure it could give him any other kind of look with those massive, bulbous eyes.

“Come on, boy,” he called and the animal immediately scrambled up and inside to the sound of the guardians cursing its arrival. Steve followed it and the cockpit sealed before the ship blasted away, darting through the gauntlet of obstacles and incoming fire as easily as if there was nothing in the way at all. Steve and the guardians were left scrambling to hold onto something or end up flying into the walls. Steve wound up half over Drax, helping him pin Bucky to the floor with Drax’s weight on top of him. Rocket held onto Groot and the navigator’s chair while Gamora gripped the hatch to the lower level and the tail of the howling varren. Only Peter ended up head first against the back wall.

Fighting momentum, Steve looked up to see it was Sleipnir piloting the ship, all four front legs stabbing at buttons or hooked around levers.

“How the hell is he doing that?” Steve gasped.

“Fuck that,” Rocket replied. “I just wanna know how he managed to get his butt into the pilot’s chair.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My husband rarely if ever reads my fanfiction. He likes my work, but he's not big on the fandoms I dabble in. He hears about them from time to time though, and when I told him the name I'd picked for Bucky's varren, he was horrified. As far as he was concerned, it was the worst name for a varren I could have possibly come up with. So he told me I couldn't use it.
> 
> Yeah, that's not gonna stop me. It's not like he'll read about her anyway. :D

Six hours after they escaped Thanos' space and three after they finally managed to pry Sleipnir’s ass out of the pilot's chair, Steve climbed down into the living section and headed back to the sleeping area. Drax sat sharpening his knives on the floor next to one of the lower bunks, the lid of which was open. He looked up at Steve and nodded before he returned to his work.

Steve knelt down. Bucky lay inside the bunk, the end of his metal arm capped in some sort of foam to insulate it until it could be replaced. His face was pale and there was sweat on his brow, but he looked up at Steve, awake. The varren was crowded into the bunk with him, its head on his chest.

"Hey," Steve whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Bucky licked his lips. "My head hurts a little bit," he whispered back, which Steve was pretty sure had to be the understatement of the year. Steve gave him a gentle smile and didn’t press.

"It won't be for much longer," he promised. "We're going to a place where they can help you. It's a planet named Halfworld. They'll be able to get rid of your headache and they'll fix your arm too." So promised Rocket.

"Okay," Bucky said, not sounding like he cared very much. He closed his eyes and stroked his fingers across the head of his varren. It gave a peaceful sigh.

"I see you have a friend," Steve said, a lump in his throat at how much Bucky was suffering. He felt so helpless. If he hadn't been hurt, and Bucky hadn't gone after the creature that stabbed him... "What's its name?"

"I'm gonna call her Pumpkin," Bucky slurred. A slight smile touched his lips at the surprised noise Steve made. "Punk. It fits. She's the colour of a perfect pumpkin."

Steve laughed and reached in to stoke Pumpkin's head. She leaned blissfully into the attention. "It fits. I just think of the name Pumpkin as being for something more, well, lazy."

"She can be lazy. She's being lazy right now."

"True." Steve moved his hand to stroke Bucky's hair instead, careful to keep his touch gentle and not aggravate his headache. He saw it worked when Bucky leaned into it with a sigh of his own.

"So she's a girl?" he continued after a moment.

"That's what Gamora said." Bucky forced his eyes open again for a second. "I messed up, Stevie. I got hurt and I forgot how to be anything but afraid. I wasn't any help to anyone."

Steve leaned into the bunk to kiss his forehead. "Don't blame yourself, Buck. This isn't because of you."

"Isn't it?" Bucky looked at him again, in one of his ever brief moments of being fully, purely there, with all the sorrow and deep regret that always seemed to bring him. "All of this, everything, everywhere we've been and why, what we're after. It's all because of me."

"No, it's not. Don't say that, Bucky."

"Why not? S'true."

Steve shook his head. Beside the bunk, Drax looked over, frowning at Steve disturbing his calf. That was a situation the two of them were going to have to talk about at some point. For now, he cupped his lover's face. "We're out here because we need to be. Because there's something we have to do, something we have to make right for someone who I don't think often has people on his side." He smiled at him. "It's not your fault I always go after the bullies, Buck."

Bucky looked up at him with weary eyes as a slow smile crossed his face. “You go after them because you’re stupid.”

“Guilty as charged,” Steve assured him. “And you follow me because you’re stupid too.”

“You know it.”

Drax glared at Steve. “My calf is not stupid.”

“Uh…” Steve shook his head at the alien. “Later, we’re going to talk.” He turned back to Bucky. His smile had faded and his eyes had that fogged in look again. “You’re going to be okay, Buck.”

“Don’t think I’ll ever be okay,” Bucky said. His hand scratched around the heavy quill that jutted out the back of Pumpkin’s skull. “I try but… I forget things I’m supposed to know. It’s like holding smoke. I forget who my friends are, what I need to do. What I shouldn’t do. I try to remember, but I have nothing to remind me. Or I forget I wrote it down to remind me.”

“I’ll remind you, Bucky, you know that.”

“You do. I like that.” He closed his eyes and Steve just knelt there for a while, watching him sleep. It wasn’t easy to be sure the varren was sleeping, since she couldn’t close her eyes, but Pumpkin rested her head on Bucky’s chest, only moving with his every intake and exhalation of breath.

Finally, Steve rose to his feet and closed the lid of the bunk. Drax looked up at him again. Seated, the alien was so big that the top of his head was even with Steve’s sternum. Being smaller than someone else had never intimidated Steve before and he refused to let it now.

“What do you want?” Steve asked him. Calling Bucky his calf, treating him like he was some kind of child; Steve didn’t know how good any of that was for Bucky. Drax wasn’t even the same species. He didn’t dare take the risk that his motivations were even remotely human or safe.

Drax raised the knife he’d been sharpening so that he could examine the edge. It was a crude thing, jagged and with a handle that looked to be part of a jaw bone lashed to the base of the blade, but lethal for all of that. Steve could easily imagine it opening someone up. He narrowed his eyes and bent slightly at the knees, just in case he needed to move.

Drax, however, made no motion to attack as he tested the knife’s edge with his thumb. “I want to bathe in the blood of my enemies, to hear their dying screams as I tear them into small pieces. I want to track down Thanos and make him scream the way his actions led to Ronan the Defiler making my family scream.”

There was pure rage there, an absolute hatred that refused to ever forgive. Steve raised his chin.

“And how does Bucky fit into that?” he asked.

Drax frowned at that. “I do not want revenge on Bucky. He has done nothing against me.”

“You treat him like he’s your child.”

“Mine, yes, but not a child.” Drax sheathed the knife and stood. He looked, if anything, bored by the conversation. “That is a mistake you make.”

“I don’t treat him like a child!” Steve blurted.

“Then why do you think to stop him making his own decisions?” Drax demanded and stomped away, headed towards the ladder to the cockpit.

Steve stayed where he’d been left for a long time, thinking over what he’d said.

 

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based a lot of this on a wikipedia entry on Halfworld, which is apparently where Rocket comes from in the comics. Before I did this chapter, I hadn't known anything about it. I kept to canon as much as I could based on that, but I did put in a lot of personal interpretation too. I personally hate the thought of calling anyone a Loonie, but that's apparently what they were called.

Halfworld was a bizarre looking planet, one that was half lush forests and half metal constructions. What Steve could only describe as a ring of metal circled the planet as well, a shimmer glowing in the space around it.

"That's the planetary shield," Rocket said. He was at the controls this time, piloting them in.

"Uh, is the shield up right now?" Peter asked.

"Yup." Rocket flashed a toothy grin at the sputtered sound the man made. "Don't worry. I have the codes to bypass it."

With that, he flipped on the comms and started chattering in some sort of language that seemed to be composed of barks and whistles. Someone responded back the same way. 

Steve moved over beside Gamora and Peter. Sleipnir stood behind them, his neck arched so he could look over their shoulders. Groot was propped up on the console alongside Rocket while Drax was downstairs again with Bucky and Pumpkin. 

"Have you ever been on this Halfworld place before?" Steve asked. "Do you know anything about it?"

Peter shook his head, arms crossed and the sound of his music echoing out from the headphones he was wearing. Gamora pursed her lips.

"It's a colony world," she said. "Centuries old. The people on it came from another, older civilization. They were their rejects, the insane, people they didn't want on their perfect world. They were left here, under the care of robots and genetically and cybernetically enhanced animals."

Peter perked up at that. "Wait, you mean like Rocket?"

Gamora nodded at him. 

Steve picked up on something else she'd said and turned to look out the cockpit window at the quickly approaching planet. Steve had brought them through the shields and was entering orbit, headed towards the forested half of the planet.

"This place is a giant psychiatric hospital?"

Gamora shook her head, never taking her eyes off the planet as the ship swept down into the atmosphere. On board, it felt no different from a human airplane making a descent, other than that he felt no need to pop his ears. 

"Not anymore. I understand that the robots and animals were able to cure the madness of their patients. They all live here now. Not many of them have much to do with the rest of the galaxy, however. Thanos considers them beneath his notice."

Steve barely heard the last half of her statement, entirely caught up in the first. They cured the people here? Did that mean they could cure Bucky?

He didn't realize he'd said that aloud until he noticed that Gamora was studying him. "The people here had a very specific illness," she said, "one particular to their race."

"Still," Steve said and let his voice trail off. Bucky, cured of his illnesses, back the way he used to be. Steve's heart pounded at the hope that thought filled him with. There was a chance he could take the real Bucky back home. He couldn't let this opportunity pass by.

He headed over to Rocket. "Rocket, I need to talk to one of the doctors here."

"Busy flying," Rocket snapped. "Fuck off until later."

"I am Groot," Groot agreed from where he sat in his pot. A lot of his roots were showing above the dirt, an indication that he was outgrowing it. 

Impatient, Steve stepped back to let Rocket focus. They were on the forested half of the planet, but some of those trees were large enough to affect the wind currents as dangerously as skyscrapers did and Rocket focused on taking the Milano through them without touching any branches. 

A city had been built in among those trees, nestled in the roots and constructed in harmony with the environment. Most of the buildings Steve spotted were small and built of wood and he found himself wondering just how much technology these people made use of after they were cured. 

"I thought this planet was high tech," he said.

"The other side is," Gamora said. She'd stepped up beside him as quietly as Natasha would and Steve felt a pang at the thought of how long it had been since he'd seen his friend. "The metal side. It's where the robots went. The animals are over here. The species they cured, the Loonies? They're on both sides."

"The Loonies?" Steve asked, eyebrow raised.

She just looked at him. "After ten generations of inherited madness before the cure, there's a lot worse they could have been called."

The trees opened up into a clearing. There stood an old building, much larger than the others and made of artificial materials. It was multileveled and sprawling, surrounded by a wall topped with guard towers. Rocket set the Milano down in front of it.

"Here we are," he said as he opened the cockpit's window roof. "The centre of Halfworld. Where it all began." He sounded less than impressed with the words he was using.

"Isn't this home for you, Rocket?" Peter asked as he climbed out. Somewhere he'd managed to find a new trench coat to replace the one he'd lost on Thanos' asteroid. "You don't want so say hi to any old friends?"

"No," Rocket grumbled as he collected Groot. "This place sucks. Damned altruists. No way in hell anyone here will ever get rich." He climbed out after him. Sleipnir just bunched his legs and basically bounded out with a single leap. Gamora followed him.

"I'll get Bucky and Drax," Steve said and went down into the lower level. 

Bucky was still in his bunk, the lid down to keep everything quiet and dark for him. Pumpkin was now outside of the bunk, lying on the floor next to Drax, who maintained his watch. Steve had to admit that having him there was the only reason he felt safe enough to leave Bucky's side.

"We're here," he said and keyed the bunk lid open. Bucky was huddled underneath a mess of blankets, only the top of his head visible. 

"Hey, Buck, we're here," he soothed as he reached in and slid his arms underneath him. Bucky mumbled something but was content to let Steve lift him out and cradle him against his chest. Steve kept his face covered with the blanket. None of them knew for sure why Bucky had such a persistent migraine despite the serum in his body, but the theory was that there were connectors to his arm in his brain which were misfiring from the damage. Rocket didn't even want to try messing with them and they had no painkillers they could be sure were safe, so the best they could do was keep him dark and quiet and let him sleep.

Steve carried him outside by way of the lower airlock, rather than try to get him up the ladder to the cockpit. Drax and Pumpkin followed, Drax impassive, Pumpkin staring around in fascination at everything. 

It was the first time Sleipnir had seen her. Steve wasn't even sure he'd known that the varren was aboard before now. The horse's ears shot straight up at the sight of Pumpkin and then went flat.

Pumpkin looked up at Sleipnir and licked her chops.

Sleipnir started to edge away.

Groot nearly fell out of his pot laughing.

"Are we seriously taking the fish dog?" Gamora demanded in disgust.

"Well," Peter suggested, scratching his cheek. "We could leave her in the ship, I guess. Is she housebroken?"

"No," said Steve, Drax, Gamora, and Rocket. 

"I am Groot," Groot added with a shudder.

"Right," Peter decided. "She comes with us."

"Whatever." Rocket turned and headed towards the building. "Come on then, let's get this over with. Damnit, do I hate this place."

Steve took a deep breath, cradling his sleeping lover closer, and followed the others inside.


	34. Chapter 34

When they first stepped into the ancient psychiatric building, they were greeted by an ostrich wearing a bright yellow bowtie and metal prosthetic arms. 

"Is it weird that this isn't even weird?" Peter asked Steve in an undertone. Steve had to nod, but those arms gave him even more hope. They were graceful and delicate and if these people could build things like that for a bird, then they could definitely do the same for Bucky.

"Finest of days to you," the ostrich said and its voice came from its bowtie, apparently another cybernetic enhancement as much as a fashion statement. "I am Balia. I am the intake administrator for this facility."

"Great," Rocket said. "Whatever. You should know who I am, right?"

Balia blinked each eye separately and cocked its head at him. "Of course. Rocket Racoon, former head of planetary defence."

Peter's eyebrows crawled up into his hair. "You were head of planetary defence? What the hell did you run off to be a merc for?"

"They pay you in kibble here," Rocket growled. "I fucking hate kibble." He pointed at the ostrich. "Which means I want off this rock as soon as possible. So tell Doc Eight that we're here for him." He cocked a thumb back at Bucky, still wrapped in blankets and asleep in Steve's arms.

"Of course," Balia soothed. "Before we do so, however, there are certain rules and regulations we must follow in regards to unmodified animals, for the sake of the facility's cleanliness."

"Uh, what does that mean?" Rocket demanded. Balia pointed with its beak and everyone turned.

Pumpkin, standing next to a wide, steaming puddle, ducked her head and managed to look embarrassed. 

Steve groaned.

***

"I don't think I've ever been so glad to be bipedal before," Peter commented to Steve with a grin as Balia led them into the facility. Behind them, Pumpkin walked awkwardly with her fresh new doggie diaper on. Sleipnir had snorted hysterical laughter at that until he ended up in one too. Biala, apparently, didn't have Rocket's fine ear to actually understand that he was intelligent. Groot was still giggling.

"How's he doing?" Peter asked, gesturing at Bucky.

"Still asleep," Steve said.

"I'm amazed he's managed to sleep through this. Especially when Sleipnir threw that fit over wearing the diaper."

"Me too," Steve admitted. It was making him worry even more about what kind of damage Bucky suffered when his arm was bitten off. 

Biala led them to a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. "This is Doctor Eight's work area," it said. "Please enter. She's expecting you."

"Thanks," Peter told it cheerfully.

"Thank you," Steve said.

"You have been most helpful, bird who is not food," Drax added. Gamora shot him a look. "What?"

They headed through the doors, into what appeared to be a complex of examination rooms, operating theatres, and recovery rooms. Steve only took that in peripherally, his focus on the figure he could only assume was Doctor Eight.

Whoever gave her her name was either uninventive or a punster, because Doctor Eight was a spider, a massive spider with legs that crossed the length of the room and a body even bigger than his. Her two frontmost eyes were black and reflective, the others replaced by lenses for different types of scanners or magnification. In addition to the eight legs, she had eight prothetic arms with dozens of different manipulators on them. 

When they entered, she was seated in the middle of the opposite wall, a cable leading from the computer on the desk in front of her to an input port on the side of her head.

"Fuck," Peter squeaked. "Rocket, why didn't you warn me? You know I hate spiders!"

"And miss this?" Rocket grinned. "No way."

"Safe from harm," the spider said through a modulator much like Biala's, though hers was in a dome on the far back of her head. "I am a doctor."

"We know," Rocket said. "He's just an asshole. We came because that one got his arm bit off by a varren."

Doctor Eight looked at Bucky and her head turned slightly to regard Pumpkin, who was trying without any success to bite off her diapers. Sleipnir had given up and just stood there looking sulky. "Understood."

"Not that one," Gamora put in. "She's tame."

"Assumed as much. No aggression given in response to diapers."

She unplugged herself and moved forward, stepping gracefully down off the wall and over the top of the desk towards Bucky. Steve had to force himself to hold still and not reach for his shield as the giant spider stepped up close and reached out with a few of her heavier manipulators to move the blankets away from Bucky's face. He made a slight pained sound and squinted in his sleep at the bright light. Dr Eight examined him with her sensors, her vicious looking mandibles working together as she did.

"He lost his prosthetic arm," Steve started to say as she focused on Bucky's skull, probing the line of his temple.

"Evidence of subdural hematoma," the spider said. "Contusions. Bilateral scarring. Extensive. Deliberate. Illimitable. Current pressure beneath skull causing migraines. Balance issues. Disorientation." A manipulator that ended in a needle like device injected something into his neck before Steve could react.

"What was that?" he all but shrieked.

"Analgesic. For temporary pain relief. Stimulant, for consciousness. Operation impossible without consent."

Steve blinked. "If you can help him, you have my consent."

"Consent required from patient."

"I have power of attorney for Bucky for all medical issues," Steve told her. "I can speak for him."

"Irrelevant. Authority of outside individual not recognized." She moved back a bit, hopefully so as not to frighten Bucky when he woke up.

Steve wasn't happy at that thought. Bucky had trouble understanding what was best for him right now. He probably wouldn't have much difficulty in asking for a new arm, but was he going to be coherent enough to grasp the need to ask for his brain to be fully repaired? Bucky didn't really remember being normal.

Bucky stirred in his arms, sighing, and his eyes flickered open. "Stevie," he smiled.

Steve smiled back at him. "Hi, Bucky. How are you feeling?"

"Floaty," was the answer. 

He squirmed and Steve gently set him down, careful to keep him from losing his balance as the others moved back to give them some privacy, except for Drax, who stayed close, and Pumpkin, who leaned against Bucky's leg while gazing up at him with her perpetual smile. Bucky looked around a bit fuzzily, but his attention focused sharply at the sight of Doctor Eight and his flesh hand tightened almost to the point of pain around Steve's wrist.

"Stevie...? Is that a giant spider?"

"Doctor," Dr Eight corrected. "Physical form incidental. Chief Doctor in Residence of Halfworld Psychiatric and Medical Facility. Eighteen current degrees held in galactic medicine and cybernetics."

Bucky immediately picked up on the word psychiatric and his eyes flashed with fear. "No, Stevie, no! You promised not to bring me to a place like this!" 

Steve found himself with an armful of frightened assassin and felt a surge of panic himself at the thought that Bucky might just refuse any sort of treatment at all. Drax loomed over them both.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

Steve hugged Bucky to him and shook his head at both Drax and Dr Eight. "It's okay. It's alright. He doesn't know that hospitals like this are different now. When we were kids, they were horrible places." He rubbed his hand back and up down Bucky's back. "It's not like back on Earth in the forties, Buck. No one gets locked away and forgotten here. They cure people who are sick, make them normal. We just have to sstay here long enough to get your arm replaced and undo the damage that Hydra did to you."

Bucky pulled back far enough to look at him and then over his shoulder at Dr Eight, who'd retreated up the wall again. He looked back at Steve and over at Drax, who stood nearby with his arms crossed. 

"Fix me?" he asked.

"Replace your arm," Steve told him. "And fix your head, make you just like you used to be. Do you understand?"

Bucky looked up at him, confused. "Fix me? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" Drax thundered. Steve found himself shouldered aside and he stumbled back as Drax wrapped his arm around Bucky and turned his rage filled face onto Steve. "You want to destroy him to try and bring back a dead man." The jagged knife he'd been sharpening while he guarded Bucky's sleep dropped down into his hand. Drax's eyes narrowed.

"Well, I have no problem with killing you before you can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not trying to make anyone the villain here. Just to express two points of view.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the comments people have been making over the last few chapters have definitely influenced this one. Thanks!

Heavily in the grip of the fog and further inhibited by the medicines given to him by the doctor, Bucky didn't even realize anything was happening for precious long seconds that would have earned him a severe beating back when he was held by Hydra.

Even when he did realize something was going on, he took longer seconds to even understand it, because what he was looking at was so patently impossible.

Steve was fighting Drax. 

Drax hammered blows down onto Steve's upraised shield. Steve nearly buckled underneath the strength of them, but when Drax pulled back for an extra strong attack, he moved, darting to the side and around Drax, slamming him in the gut with the edge of his shield as he went. A painful breath exploded out of Drax before he turned almost as fast as Steve did. Steve had gained enough distance for a throw at that point, however, and Drax nearly lost his front teeth from the rebound of Steve's shield.

Everyone else looked to be losing their mind. Peter was shouting and flailing, Sleipnir trying to back out the door with his ears flat. Rocket was rescuing Groot and Pumpkin had crawled underneath the doctor's desk. The doctor herself was up in the corner of the ceiling, calling for security.

Only Gamora moved towards the fighting. "Stop this!" she shouted. "Idiots! Stop fighting!" Infuriated, the two men paid her no attention.

Why were they fighting? What was he supposed to do? Whenever Steve was in danger, the Winter Soldier snapped to the fore and went to his rescue, but this was Drax he was fighting. Drax had taken up residence in a different part of Bucky's soul, gained that special concept of family, and he reeled at the sight of them attacking each other and his indecision over who to help. 

Was this his fault? Did he do something that made them turn on each other this way? Bucky fought to remember, but he didn't know, he just couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember? 

He stood where he was, frozen and terrified, and didn't know what to do.

***

"You're both fools!" Gamora shouted. She blocked a downward slash of Drax's knife with her sword and kicked Steve in the gut as he moved to charge in. The men tried to go around her, their outrage still focused on each other.

"You will not do this to him!" Drax bellowed. "I will cut you open from groin to throat and throw your innards to the varren!"

He went to rush at Steve, thwarted when Gamora got in the way and threw him over her hip. He slammed into the ground on his back and she straightened up and caught the shield Steve flung at his head. 

"I'm not trying to hurt him!" Steve shouted back. "The last thing I want to do is hurt him!" 

He ran forward, fists clenched, and ducked as Gamora swung the shield at him. It passed over his head, far closer than he would have liked and as he straightened, it came in a return arc at him. Steve caught it and Gamora immediately cartwheeled over it, never letting go of her end, and kicked him in the face with both feet. Steve stumbled backwards and fell on his ass, nose bleeding and stunned.

Drax pushed himself up. "You do nothing else!" he yelled.

Gamora turned and slammed the flat side of the shield down on top of Drax's head with a loud bang.

"Are you two done?" she growled, "or do I need to break something to get you to stop?"

Most dangerous woman in the galaxy, Steve remembered Peter calling her. She was definitely worthy of that title. "I didn't start this," he pointed out as he wiped blood off of his nose. Drax hadn't done any serious damage to him, but he ached from the force of the blows he'd blocked. He imagined it was somewhat like how it must be to fight the Hulk.

"You did," Drax snarled. 

Gamora raised the shield. "Do I need to start hitting people again?" she asked. Both of them leaned away from her.

From her position on the wall, Dr Eight spoke. "Behaviour unacceptable. Unprofessional. Counterproductive."

"No kidding," Peter said, walking over to them with his fists on his hips and an incredulous 'why am I suddenly the mature one here?' look on his face. "What the fuck was that about?"

Drax pointed at Steve. "He wants to make my calf into someone he is not! To suite his own preferences!"

Steve flushed, angry. "I do not!" 

"Then why tell the spider that she needs to fix him? He is not broken!"

Steve clapped a hand over his face. "Okay, okay, bad word choice. Not fix. Heal. He needs to be healed."

"HE IS NOT SICK!" Drax thundered. Gamora promptly banged him over the head with Steve's shield again. 

"He is!" Steve protested, too many months of stress and worry coming out at once. "He's confused on a good day. On a bad day he's murderous! I can't take him home because he forgot who our friends were and damn near assassinated them all! There's a planetary wide kill order on him!"

Rocket looked at Groot. "Gee, think we should have maybe known about that before we let him on the Milano?" he asked.

"I am Groot."

Peter's jaw dropped. "Uh, he did what?"

Steve's shoulders sagged. Now that he'd had his outburst, he felt incredibly tired. "I just... I want Bucky back. I want him to remember who he is all of the time, not just on the good days. I want him to be part of the world, not floating through it. I want him to be safe and other people to be safe around him."

He looked up then, still sitting on the floor as he was with his fingers pinching his bloody nose, and blanched at what his self control had cost. 

Bucky stood beyond Drax and Gamora, alone on the other side of the room, his shoulders sagging and his eyes filled with tears. 

"Oh, god, Bucky! I'm so sorry!"

He leaped to his feet, fully intending to go straight through Gamora if she didn't let him by, but just as he did, the doors flew open and the security personnel of the centre charged in. None of them were small or delicate the way that Rocket was and Steve found his arms held behind his back by a kodiak grizzly with cybernetically enhanced strength. Drax had an anaconda wrapped numerous times around him.

"Remove them quickly," Dr Eight said. "Violence unappreciated. Rest of assessment to be done in private."

They were taking him away from Bucky. "You can't!" Steve shouted. "He won't understand!" 

"Informed consent will be gained," she assured him and waved a leg. "Exit, please."

Despite their protests, Steve and Drax were dragged out, the other Guardians and Sleipnir following, Gamora still carrying his shield. 

"Sorry about that," Rocket said to Dr Eight as he followed.

Steve stared back as much as he could, struggling against an animal even stronger than he was, and the last glimpse he had of Bucky was of him standing alone in the office as the giant spider moved towards him, left to make the most important decision of his life without any support at all.


	36. Chapter 36

After security guided Steve, the Guardians, and Sleipnir out of the room, Pumpkin wriggled her way out from underneath the desk and scurried over to the corner where Bucky cowered, his arm up over his head. He brought it down and wrapped it around her when she crawled, wet diaper and all, into his lap.

Dr Eight stood with half her legs on the wall and the other half on the floor as she regarded them. "Supportive without being influential. Excellent." Her manipulators moved, extending an attachment which beamed light over him. "Scans indicate heart rate raised above probable species norm. Stress chemical levels increased. Distress indicated. Unnecessary."

Bucky didn't respond, or even look up at her. He just hugged the varren to him, face buried against her heavily muscled neck. Since he'd walked away from Hydra, there'd always been someone there to take care of him. Steve promised he'd always take care of him. The few times he'd been separated from the others, they'd come for him. 

Now he had to figure things out himself and he hated the fog that swamped him more than ever.

"I made Steve mad," he whispered. "And Drax." Pumpkin whined and nuzzled her head up underneath his chin. 

"Doubtful," she said. "Disparate opinions on treatment options leading to violence. Emotional excess displayed. Scanning damage, hold still."

"I'm sick," Bucky said. "Stevie said so." But Drax hadn't. He'd known that, but... wasn't it something else?

"Not sick," the spider said. "Scanning shows damage, scarring through major process centres, probably regarding emotion and memory, thought processes. Delirium, emotional restrictions, all obvious results. No indication of sickness. Impressive actually, level of compensation for damage. Permanent coma would be more obvious result."

Bucky finally let himself look up at her. Her face up close might have been something from most people's nightmares, but his were always filled instead with ice and smirking little men with beady eyes. Hers were almost comforting in comparison. 

"Can you fix me?" he asked her.

"Fix. Speculative term. Many interpretations of 'fix.' Do you want to be 'fixed'?"

"Stevie says I should," he whispered. "Will he love me again if I am?"

"Love. Unscientific term. Irrelevant. Consent requires your needs be met, not his."

Bucky lowered his head back down to Pumpkin's hard skull. "Drax doesn't want me fixed," he said. He felt so confused, his head was aching.

"Still irrelevant," the spider said. As they both spoke, she continued with her scans, building up a detailed picture of his anatomy and the cybernetics he already had. "What do YOU want?"

He hugged his varren and looked at her again. "I want Stevie and Drax to be happy," he whispered. "I want them to love me."

"Indications indicative that they already love you. Will make terms simpler. First parameter. Do you want to have two arms?"

Bucky looked at his metal stump. "Yes?"

"Desire noted to official record. Do you wish an organic replicant or a metal cybernetic prothetic?"

He blinked at her. "I can have a real arm again? A real flesh and blood arm?"

"Confirmed. Cloning replication of organic arm for patient's right side will take approximately eighty-two months. Therapy and standard rehabilitation to grow muscle tissue to matching strength levels once grafted will require an additional four to six months."

Bucky gaped at her, his mouth hanging open. "How long for a metal arm?"

"Simple process in comparison. Robotic limbs a necessary specialty planet-wide. Design, construction, and implantation can be completed in approximately sixteen hours."

"That fast?" he asked. He was still afraid, but Dr Eight explained things to him, even if he didn't necessarily understand all of the words she used. Her lack of emotion or any kind of derision helped a lot, as well as, though he didn't want to think about it, Steve and Drax's absence. The more he calmed down in response to her calm, the more he could think. Pumpkin's need to be an oversized lap cat also helped. Her weight on him was even better than his heavy therapy blanket back home.

"Internal construction can be based on already existing models. Connection to biological centres for purposes of direction also following established scientific methods. Easy."

Bucky frowned for a moment and looked at her again. "Can you make it badass?"

If she could have blinked, Bucky suspected that the spider would have. "Accessing translation matrix. Colloquialism. Badass. Dangerous. Impressive. Weaponized?"

"I..." Bucky swallowed. "I just, Hydra didn't ask if I wanted the arm. It was a weapon but, but it was useful. It made me useful. I can have an arm that makes me useful?"

"A list of specific capabilities to include in the model can be provided. Query. Do you wish an organic arm or a cybernetic arm?"

Bucky bit his lip. He couldn't stay here waiting for a real arm and then to get it worked up to full strength, he just couldn't. "The cybernetic one?"

"Choice is for cybernetic arm. Decision noted to record. Second parameter. What do you want done for the damage to your brain?"

To be normal, he thought. To be out of the fog, but when he was out of the fog, the memories came back. The bad ones. He didn't want that.

"Can you clone my brain?" he asked, more than a bit reluctantly.

"Impossible. Recreation of cells and neurons, flesh and fluids one thing, but replication of recorded data within, memories and personality, not possible within modern science. Would recreate you as a blank slate. No you left. Not permissible, even with granted consent."

Bucky shuddered and hugged Pumpkin even tighter. She didn't mind, more than tough enough to withstand his strongest grip. Made a blank slate? Hydra would have loved to be able to do that. He had to resist the urge to run and look for Steve.

"Can you just fix the broken bits?" he asked instead, liking this less and less. The arm was one thing, but his brain?

"Possible. Would require estimated ten years to fully scan and recreate the proper layout of the entire organ."

"Ten years?" he almost shrieked.

The spider wasn't disturbed. "Early scans indicate human brain has one hundred billion neurons. No two species the same so standard protocol doesn't exist. Colloquialism. Like reinventing the wheel. Percentage chance of error reduced to only twenty percent if full scan allowed. Still not recommended, but percentage low enough that consent from patient is sufficient to proceed. Do you wish to proceed and repair the damaged portions of your brain?"

When it would take ten years and there was a twenty percent chance that he'd end up wiped clean by mistake? "No," he whimpered. "All I want is to not be in the fog all the time, to remember all the stuff I keep forgetting, to know who my friends are. I want Steve to not worry about me and Drax to be proud. I want to go home." His voice broke on the last word. Home was the tower, the Avengers, and the apartment he shared with Steve. He wiped his face on his shoulder and looked up at her. "Can you do anything to give me that? Without taking ten years or wiping me or anything?"

The spider's face was so close that Bucky could see himself and Pumpkin reflected in her eyes. "Using standard medical protocols, yes. Let me show you what we have."


	37. Chapter 37

The rooms they were given on one of the upper floors of the facility weren't exactly spartan, given the different furniture crammed in, apparently for different body types, but there weren't any sort of homey touches.

Steve sank down on what looked like a bean bag chair floating just above the ground - it formed around him and looked like it might not let go - and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm such an ass," he moaned.

"I noticed," Gamora remarked.

Peter looked weirded out. "Y'know, this sort of attitude never got mentioned in history class. I hope you don't go fighting people that easily all the time."

"I kind of do. Right back to when I was a kid. Historians tend to ignore it." Steve dropped his hands and looked up at Drax. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have fought you."

Drax snorted. "If you hadn't, I would have cut you apart."

Steve opened his mouth to argue that, but a glare from Gamora made him close it again. She wasn't someone he wanted to piss off. In fact, he was pretty sure he wanted close combat lessons from her instead.

Everyone drifted around the rooms, lost in their own conversations or silence. Hours passed where the only thing interesting that happened was that Sleipnir managed to get his diaper off, poured some sort of sticky sauce from the food replicator over it, and flung it at Rocket in vengeance for not translating his protests of intelligence when they first arrived. For a horse, he had wickedly good aim.

Eventually, hunger made Steve fight his way out of his chair and head over to a counter where the Guardians had laid out a number of different dishes from the replicator. The thought of foods just appearing on command was really too sci-fi for him and he looked at the various, colourful plates with a great deal of dubiousness. Finally, he pointed at a plate of what resembled battered shrimp.

"Is this edible for humans?" he asked Peter, who stood beside him, chewing on something that was both tough and an appalling orange colour. Peter nodded exaggeratedly as he swallowed and Steve picked up one of the shrimpfish things and put it in his mouth.

He spat it back out and frantically wiped his tongue off on what he hoped was a napkin an instant later.

"It tastes worse than shit though," Peter added, his mouth finally clear.

"Thanks," Steve groaned, not sure he'd ever want to eat again.

The door whispered open and Bucky shuffled in, Pumpkin heeling at his side. He had a leash in his only hand and it went to what had to be the universe's smallest collar, fastened around the base of the thick quill that came out the back of Pumpkin's skull. She kept tossing her head up and down as if she were unsure about the workability of this new thing. Her previously yellow diapers were now pink, with little baby aliens on them.

Everyone stared as Bucky came to a stop and looked up at Steve and Drax from under the veil of his hair. "H'lo... are you mad at me?"

Steve was across the room and had his arms around the smaller man in a heartbeat, Drax only slightly slower. "I'm not mad. I'm sorry we scared you. I'm so sorry. We behaved terribly."

"Are you well, my calf?" Drax asked him, his huge hand smoothing down Bucky's perennially messy hair.

"I'm okay." Bucky leaned against Steve, and even before he tucked his face up underneath Steve's chin, Steve could tell he was exhausted. "'M gettin' a new arm."

"That's great!" Steve told him, even as he bit down on his tongue to stop himself asking anything else. "When?"

"Uh, 'bout ten hours. Looked at a lotta option stuff. Worse'n buying a new car." He yawned.

"You're never owned a car," Steve pointed out.

"Shush it, punk." He yawned again and mumbled something else Steve couldn't quite make out. "C'n I sleep?" he asked at last. "My headache came back an' the drugs she gave me are makin' me all fuzzy."

"Sure." Steve kept his arm around him as he guided him to one of the other rooms, following Drax as he led the way. Pumpkin whined as she was pulled along with them.

Steve eyed her. "I see Pumpkin's got a... that is a collar, right?"

Bucky smiled. "Doctor Eight said she needed one t' keep her from runnin' around, and she can't have one around her neck, since she can unhinge her jaw and swallow stuff as big as she is. She'd just snap a neck collar."

"Okay, that makes...she can do what?" He looked back and forth between Bucky, who was strong but lean, and the varren, who was just about the same size he was. 

Drax didn't seem to share any of the same concerns as he ushered Bucky into a sunken bed that seemed to be composed of energy that folded around him, likely to accommodate patients of any species. Pumpkin crawled in with him and Bucky wrapped his arm around her before he was asleep.

The two men stood there and watched him for a time, both of them coming from entirely different points of view and backgrounds. At least they could agree on one thing, which was Bucky's happiness. It was just hard for Steve to let his friend struggle so hard to find his way himself. He wanted to take care of Bucky, the way Bucky took care of him during their childhood. 

He guessed that Drax ultimately had the same need and Bucky was able to fill it. They'd have to find common ground there, since he didn't think the big alien had any intentions of going away and neither of them wanted to see Bucky cry because of them again. 

At least he had good taste in who he decided to adopt.

"Come on," Steve said at last. "We should let him sleep."

"Yes," Drax agreed and followed him back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's thinking "When did a varren swallow someone like a snake" in Mass Effect, remember, this is MY version of them. :)


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, trigger warning for medical procedures involving blood?

While Bucky was sleeping, most everyone else took the chance to get some sleep as well. Only Steve stayed up, too lost in his own thoughts to put his head down. He was still sitting there when the Guardians started to wander out of their rooms.

"Don't think too hard," Rocket told him as he went past with Groot. Groot was out of his pot and walking with the skill of a baby new to its feet, hanging onto Rocket's arm for balance. Rocket grinned at Steve. "You'll burn something out," he added.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Funny." He gestured at Groot, who was about three feet tall and probably didn't fit into his pot anymore. "He's starting to grow pretty fast."

"You ain't seen nothing yet. Soon enough he's gonna just shoot up. Don't tell Sleipnir. I wanna see the look on his face."

"I am Groot," Groot agreed with a wicked grin on his face.

Steve decided to stay out of that one as he watched Peter come out of his room, yawning and scratching underneath his arm before grinning at Gamora when she came out of hers. She just rolled her eyes at him and went to get some food.

Drax emerged and went straight to Bucky's door. When he opened it, Pumpkin trotted out, dragging her leash behind her as she sniffed the air in the direction of the food table. Drax vanished into the room while Pumpkin trotted over to table where they'd left the remains of the previous night's meal. Had anyone fed her lately? Steve wondered. What did she even eat?

Tall enough to see over the side of the table, Pumpkin regarded the offerings, which ranged from the pseudo-shrimp Steve was going to remember the taste of for the rest of his life, to a massive roast that looked rather worm-like and was also blue, to bowls of puddings and bits of things unidentifiable.

Pumpkin sniffed all of it, licked the pseudo-shrimp into her mouth with a tongue that appeared to be around a foot long and very flexible, and then settled her attention on the worm roast, which was bigger than her head. Rocket had tried a bit of it the previous night and declared it 'slimier than a dighayh'." This morning, it looked even less appetizing and distinctly congealed.

While Steve watched, the varren rose up onto her hind legs with her front paws on the table, folded her tusks down along her jaw line, and opened her mouth.

And opened her mouth.

And opened her mouth.

"Holy shit," Steve said despite himself as Pumpkin unhinged her jaw, expanded her throat and swallowed a roast bigger than the fifty pound turkey served during Thanksgiving at Stark's last year. Her belly was visibly distended when she sat back down.

"Yeah," Peter said, walking up by where Steve was sitting. "Have fun with that kibble bill."

Pumpkin belched.

"I'm afraid to let her near small children," Steve cringed.

"Fuck that. I'd be afraid to let her near large ones."

Just then, there was a soft chime and the main door opened to reveal Biala. The ostrich bobbed its head as it stepped inside. "Greetings. Doctor Eight requests her patient be brought to the operating theatre. I am to guide him. Are any of you wishing to come?"

"Hell, no," Peter said, picking over the table. Gamora didn't even look up, busy programming something fresher into the replicator.

"Nope," Rocket said, popping the P at the end.

"I am Groot," Groot said in agreement. Sleipnir hadn't even come out of his room yet and Steve could hear him snoring.

For his own part, Steve stood up. "I'm going."

"As am I," Drax added, coming out of Bucky's bedroom. Bucky was with him, looking sleep tousled and groggy in a way that reminded Steve of exactly how gorgeous he found the man.

"Pum'kin?" Bucky slurred. Steve looked over to see the varren flat on her back under the table, big gut pointed up and mouth open in a snore.

"She's asleep," Steve told him as he joined Drax and both of them guided Bucky out the door in the ostrich's wake. "She had a big breakfast." He didn't ask if Bucky was hungry. Probably he shouldn't eat anything before going into surgery.

"Oh, okay. Where we goin'?"

Drax and Steve exchanged a look. Bucky had to be deep in the fog to have forgotten, though it'd likely come back to him later, when he was more awake. He hoped, and tried not to feel bitter about how he'd been shut out of the decision making process. He got that Bucky should be allowed to make his own choices, but for some things, he needed help. That was the way things were, and from the look of it, apparently the way they were going to stay.

The ostrich led them back to the spider's office and through it and several exam rooms to a huge, empty room, pure white and bare of anything other than a silver circle on the floor and glass covered indentations on the ceiling. The light came from seemingly everywhere, not blindingly bright but clear and without shadows.

Dr Eight clung to the back wall, legs spread wide to support her as she studied them through her living eyes.

"Remove top garment and step inside circle," she told Bucky without preamble.

When Bucky just blinked at her, still yawning, Steve stepped forward and started to help him with the shirt he was wearing, a thin grey t-shirt he wore under his armour. Bucky immediately took that as an invitation to try and get Steve's shirt off too.

"Bucky!" he yelped, well aware that both the spider and Drax were there. Bucky's response was to lean in and start kissing his jaw. Steve ended up wrestling with him while Drax looked on with his arms crossed, apparently completely unconcerned.

Finally, Steve managed to get hold of Bucky's head, his hands clasped on either side of his face while he looked right into his eyes. "Bucky! Remember when we talked about consent?"

Bucky blinked at him, stopping his amorous attack, and slow recollection came to them. "I... I'm sorry. I forgot."

He looked devastated and Steve leaned in to kiss his forehead. "I know. I just need you to take your shirt off." Not that he knew why the doctor wanted it done here. He didn't see anything that looked even remotely surgical in this empty room.

Bucky stepped back and over the line of the silver circle as he struggled one handed with his shirt. Once he finally got it off, he he tossed it to Steve. The sight of his missing arm, gone from just below the jagged metal edge of his shoulder, made him look unbalanced and wrong. All of the scars on his body caused Steve to ache at the same time he felt an old, familiar anger. None of this should ever have happened.

"Now what?" Bucky asked, but he'd no sooner said the words than the silver circle he stood inside lit up and he went utterly slack. Steve was so startled that he tried to run into the circle to get to him, but Drax's hand clamped down on his shoulder hard enough that he couldn't move.

"It is safe," the alien said. "He sleeps."

He did. Steve could see Bucky's chest moving in and out as he breathed, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks while he dreamed. He should have fallen, but some sort of invisible field within the circle kept him upright and lifted him as well into the air. Bucky floated there, hair drifting past his face almost as if he were underwater, and the ceiling opened up.

Hundreds of robot arms folded out from above, bearing instruments and supplies, and moved through the field that Bucky floated in as if it weren't even there. Tony, Steve thought in fascinated amazement, would have drooled to get hold of their designs.

As he watched, they moved Bucky, adjusting him in the field so that he was in the most ideal position, and cleaned his shoulder and the jagged remains of his metal arm.

"Who's controlling these machines?" Steve asked.

Drax gestured disinterestedly towards where Dr Eight still clung to the far wall. Steve looked towards her and saw she was plugged into the wall itself. The best he could guess, at the moment, she was the instruments working on his lover.

Tony definitely was going to regret missing this.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't. The machines disassembled the outside of Bucky's remaining arm, down to where Steve could see he had no natural upper arm left, just a scarred, metal socket built right into his shoulder, atached to his remaining shoulder bone. Once they had the base fully exposed, new devices moved in and lasers flared, cutting the metal socket right out.

Blood flowed, a lot of it, and the same energies that held Bucky upright collected it into a growing sphere of red. A moment later, a thin line of it spread down from the bottom and fed the blood back into Bucky's veins at the same rate he bled it out.

"Oh god," Steve said, feeling sick.

Drax looked at him out of the corner of one eye. "You do not have to stay here," he pointed out.

Steve shook his head. He felt like throwing up, but he wasn't going to move.

With the old arm fully removed, the work moved faster. New arm sections floated down, muscle cables and segmented circuits assembling mid route as the manipulator arms implanted new connectors and readied the location for the complex prosthetic.

The connectors that would allow him to control it went in first and Steve had to look away as the first of the wires actually wormed their way in through the muscle tissue of Bucky's body, glad as anything that Buck couldn't feel it. Drax just made an interested sound and when Steve forced himself to look back, the new socket was going in, and right before it slotted into place, he saw that something had done to the exposed bone of Bucky's shoulder, turning it a hard, supportive grey instead of the original, long abused and micro-fractured white. Then it was in and the arm slotted in and attached with a click.

"Prosthetic installation complete," Dr Eight intoned.

Steve felt the breath he'd been holding for longer than he should have rush out and staggered over to the wall in relief, one hand against the expanse of it to stay upright.

"Are you sick?" Drax asked him.

Steve gulped in a breath and shook his head. He really didn't care if Drax thought he were weak for being emotional right now. "All that blood, seeing inside him. I hate that."

"Of course," Drax said. "He is important to you." He made another of those interested noises.

Steve turned again, hoping that the spider was done and that Bucky would wake up as fast as he'd gone to sleep. Instead he felt his heart nearly stop at the realization that Bucky had been moved in the field again, now floating on his back with his feet pointed away from the two of them.

Which gave Steve a perfect view of his brain, now that the top cap of his skull had been removed.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter fought me. This one? Straight out. Damned muse...

Bucky woke up slowly, wrapped in warmth. His thoughts felt sleepy, sluggish and dragged out of him only because the tides of sleep were pulling back. 

There was something across his ribs, a warm weight against his back as he lay on his side, and slowly he began dragging at the dim thoughts which existed in the fog, to recall where he was and who was with him.

-Location: Halfworld Central Psychological Treatment Centre  
-currently in assigned sleeping chambers, post surgery  
-bed being shared with Steve Rogers

Okay, that was different. Bucky blinked a few times, waking up a lot faster now. The sudden information flow wasn't so much something he remembered as facts he heard, in his his head, and saw, as rapid text scrolling up discreetly along the side of his vision. Comprehension went even deeper as well, an information dump straight into his brain, and with all three methods working at once, despite the fog clouding his normal thoughts, he understood.

What the hell? Recollection still came slowly, as he dimly recalled a conversation with a giant spider, and the moment he tried to filter everything through his own recollections, more information came to fill in the gaps.

-Information provided by VI  
-Virtual Intelligence core processor implanted into your brain, interfaced with your cortex and cerebellum.  
-Purpose: to provide ongoing support and data recollection for patient.

Oh yeah, now he remembered. They couldn't remake his brain, but they could augment it, with some sort of microcomputer that was tapped into his thinking and would let him know when he was forgetting something or about to do anything crazy dangerous. He'd asked for it, but he hadn't really been sure what it would be like, despite Dr Eight's attempts to explain. He had made sure that it couldn't take over though. It just told him what he should already know, it couldn't control him.

They'd replaced his arm as well, the VI reminded him. Bucky stretched it out across the force field he'd been sleeping on and looked at it. It was similar to how it had been before, but lighter now and a matte grey metal colour rather than the shiny reflective silver it was before. The VI rattled off a bunch of schematics and he focused. The arm shifted to the reflective silver he was used to, and then to a carbon black. He shifted the plates along it and wriggled his fingers, touching the tips of each to his thumb. The amount of feeling he had in the digits was a lot more than he did with the one Hydra gave to him.

Behind him, Steve shifted. "Bucky?" he asked sleepily. "Are you okay?"

Bucky rolled over and looked at him,. Steve looked back at him, his blue eyes tense. 

-Steve Rogers: expressed concern over medical process.

Steve was beautiful, his short blond hair a mess on top of his head, his eyelashes long and sweeping his cheeks when he blinked his eyes. Bucky smiled at him. "Hi, Stevie," he said and leaned in to kiss him.

-WARNING WARNING WARNING  
-Consent required!

Bucky flushed and pulled back. "I... can I kiss you?" he blurted.

Steve lifted his head, his face flushed. "I, uh, are you okay?" he asked again.

"I'm fine," Bucky promised. "I really want to kiss you. Can I?"

The flush increased. "I-I'd like that."

Bucky grinned and leaned in to press his lips against Steve's. They were soft and warm; Erskine's serum didn't let Steve get chapped lips the way Bucky sometimes still did and the feel of them sent a shock of heat straight down to Bucky's groin. He moved his lips against Steve's, barely touching, barely needing to with the feelings being so intense. They breathed each other in, mouths opening, and the slightest touch of the tip of Steve's tongue to his made him gasp with desire. 

"Steve," he breathed, wrapping his metal arm around Steve's neck and pressing himself along the length of him. He was hard, as hard as Bucky and it felt so very good.

"Bucky, Buck," Steve gaped, pulling back even as Bucky pressed forward to follow him.

-Consent withdrawn. Stop.

Bucky pulled back with a pout. "What?" he whined. 

"How are you, Bucky?" Steve asked, all earnest concern and love. Bucky just just wanted to suck on his bottom lip. "Dr Eight told me she put some kind of computer in your head. I was, um, I've been worried." He rubbed a hand through his hair and tried to smile.

The VI rattled off a list of Steve's emotions and the reasoning for it, things that Bucky had so much trouble understanding anymore. With the information dropped straight into his head, however, they made a lot more sense. The VI didn't speak for him, however, and even with its help it was still hard to find the right words.

"I talked to the Doc and she said, um, I couldn't have my brain fixed," he said. "Um, it'd be easier to grow me a new arm and that was gonna take longer than I'd be able to handle staying here. So she offered me this." He frowned, essentially reading the program descriptor off the inside of his retina. "A custom Virtual Intelligence interface to provide a technological bridge between my conscious thoughts and the damaged portions of my brain and memories." He rubbed his cheek. "So, yeah, um, it reminds me of stuff I forgot. Like how I have to ask you if you're interested in having me suck your dick before I try to get into your pants." He paused. "So, can I suck your dick?"

Steve flamed bright red, which was entertaining all on its own. "It thinks for you?" he squeaked.

"No," Bucky said with a sigh, more details scrolling down for him. "It gets into my memories, um, my moral code? And gives suggestions that let me know when I'm not doing something I'd normally be doing if I didn't have a fried brain. Like that list I made, except I don't gotta remember not to lose it, or have to try and find what I wanted in it either. It does it for me." He beamed at him.

Steve still looked a bit dubious. "It has your moral code?"

"Yah. Straight out of my brain. Like 'walk dames home after a date,' 'look both ways before you cross the street,' 'always obey your handler', 'cook the pasta before you put it in the sauce'. Stuff like that."

Somehow, Steve didn't look terribly thrilled at that, or, worse, even faintly horny anymore. "I think we need to do some tweaking on that," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my google hunt on Bucky's mental disorders, I found that the use of reminders, like lists and calendars etc, was the best sort of non medical way for people with delirium to try and deal with it. So this is the high tech future version of that, which I've been planning for about four stories now. Hopefully I can pull it off.


	40. Chapter 40

Rocket was starting to get itchy. Being back on Halfworld, with its trees and its altruism, and its endless caring and help for the sick and injured. It really made him want to puke.

"I am Groot," Groot said as Rocket helped him walk along one of the halls outside of the apartment they'd been given, all free from any sort of charge. If Groot didn't exercise his limbs at this stage, they might not grow in as strongly as they should.

"Yeah, yeah," Rocket muttered. "Home sweet home. I fucking hate it here."

"I am Groot?" Groot asked.

The racoon shrugged. "Well, what was I supposed to do? This is the only place I know of that does the kind of work that kid needed for free. It's not like I wanted Steve funding any work out of the credits he's going to pay to us. That'd just be selfish."

Groot gave him a look. "I am Groot," he pointed out.

"Hey, they've given us every indication they're going back to their home world after this. It's not like they have any use for galactic credits there. They may as well give them to us, so it makes sense to make sure they have as much of them left as possible."

Groot's hands were rough and cool on Rocket's hand as they hung on, the little alien refusing to let go just as he refused to stop walking, tiring though it was for him. 

"I am Groot?"

"No, I'm not happy to be back. This is a fucking hole."

They passed several workers in the building as they walked, all of them animals modified to maximize intelligence and usability, just like Rocket had been, but none of them were quite like him. He was wholley and utterly unique and he had no problem telling himself that every single day. After all, these losers were happy to stay here, tending to a bunch of crazies who weren't crazy anymore and working for absolutely nothing other than their own fucked up sense of purpose.

"Hey, Rocky!"

Rocket groaned, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them again and turned with an impassive look on his face. He'd rather have run, if it wouldn't have made the other call him a coward. 

Waddling towards him was an otter, armoured with a rifle across his back and a neverending smirk on his face. 

"Oscar," Rocket nodded. "Aren't you dead yet?"

Oscar sneered at him, sharp teeth glinting. "I thought the same about you. You really like to piss people off."

Rocket buffed the back of his hand on his armour. "What can I say? I excel at what I do."

Oscar stopped a few feet away, hands resting on his almost non-existent hips. He'd always tried for the same amount of snark as Rocket, but in Rocket's humble opinion, always fallen short. It had been years since they saw each other, when Rocket kissed off his position in Halfworld security and went into space in search of actual credits. In that time, Oscar had grown both a bit greyer and developed a crueller sense of amusement which shone in his eyes.

"Excelled enough to get Thanos after you," the otter observed and Rocket had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide any reaction. Groot didn't do so well and stiffened beside him. Oscar's grin widened.

"Oh?" Rocket said in a bored tone.

"Yeah," Oscar drawled, since telling them would be so much more pleasurable than keeping it secret. "My scouts tell me he's sent one of his strike teams out, to get some stolen property back from a bunch of misfit assholes."

Rocket crossed his arms. "So what makes you think he's looking for me?"

Oscar stepped forward and poked a claw against Rocket's chest. Rocket batted it away with a snarl.

"I know it's you," Oscar told him. "I've been keeping tabs on you since you turned coward and ran and there's no other fuzzy butted animanthrope who fits the description. You actually went up against Thanos." Oscar shook his head, looking grudgingly impressed. "If that army had tracked you here, I'd have you trussed up and jetted into space as a welcoming gift and to the Blackest Hole with you, but they have some other destination in mind. So you can just gather up all your so called friends and get the hell off of Halfworld before I jet you off anyway. We don't want you back any more than you ever wanted to be here."

Groot stared between the two of them, a horrified expression on his face. "I am Groot?" he demanded. Oscar looked at him, puzzled, and Rocket snorted. Oscar's hearing was never as developed as his.

"So where's this army of his going?"

Oscar shrugged. "Some dinky world on the outer rim. They're not keeping it a secret. Hear the world doesn't even have decent space travel. Why they think they'll find you losers there, I have no idea."

"I am Groot!" Groot said urgently as he tugged on Rocket's arm.

Rocket was in agreement. It sounded like Thanos was expecting them to go to Earth. Not really a big deal, under normal circumstances. He didn't care much that Steve and Bucky came from there. He did, however, care that Peter did, and he really cared that if their home planet got conquered or blown to ash or something, Steve might not be so readily inclined to pay them after all.

"Yeah, whatever," Rocket said, turning away with a rude gesture. "Fuck you, you inbred flaghabat."

"Hey!" Oscar protested, but Rocket was good with that being his last word as he helped Groot walk with as much nonchalance as they could manage back to their apartment, so they could warn the others.


	41. Chapter 41

They came for Schmidt in the slave quarters, where he was trying to staunch the bleeding from the wounds that little shit with the metal arm gave him, the body of another slave at his feet. He'd had to kill the creature when it saw he was injuried and attempted to take advantage of the situation.

Given the positional trackers implanted into all of the slaves, in the centre of their brains where they couldn't just dig them out, he wasn't surprised that they'd figured out he was involved in that mess. Alarms were still going off and now, hours after he stabbed Captain America and pushed him to his death, the halls were filled with the too slow, too late security teams who'd been supposed to guard the complex. Schmidt smirked at the thought of how many of them were going to be executed for incompetence, even as he was dragged to what he was sure would be his own death. It had been worth it, just to see Captain America fall.

It turned out not to be an execution he was being taken to. His captors instead treated his wounds, effeciently if not kindly, and put him on a ship that took him off that damned asteroid for the first time since it became his prison seventy years before.

Several guards in heavy battle armour watched over him as he sat in high powered restraints, but Schmidt didn't bother asking them for any information. They were underlings, hardly important enough to know anything worth the telling.

They flew him through the asteroid belt, not that Schmidt saw any of it from where he sat in the belly of the ship. Finally, however, they landed and dragged him unchained to the airlock and out.

He'd been brought to an asteroid so small its width could have been measured in acres, bare and with an atmosphere held in by faintly shimmering shields. Schmidt looked across the deeply rocky surface to see stairs rising on nothing at the far edge of the asteroid, up to where more, smaller asteroids were grouped around something he couldn't quite see.

From behind one of the great rocks which covered the asteroid, a blue skinned alien with two thumbs each on its widespread arms slunk into sight and stalked heavily towards Schmidt, only its gleaming teeth visible underneath the cloak itwore.

"This is the creature?" it demanded of the guards, who mumbled a frightened sounding reply in their own language. The cloaked figure turned its bared teeth on Schmidt. "It's just a slave."

Schmidt lifted his chin. For the last seventy years he'd been kept low, but never humbled. He would not be broken, especially now he was triumphant. These creatures thought him nothing but a freak, but he was the Red Skull. He was a leader of men, the harbinger of a new world order. More than that; a new galactic order.

"You are more the slave than I," he spat. 

His guess that it was a subordinate before him, even if it was one who made the guards quake, proved to be true as the alien's teeth bared even more and it hissed its rage as it drew back one of its arms and backhanded Schmidt across the face.

"You will not speak to me as such!"

Its strike had been hard enough to kill a normal man, but Schmidt just spat out a glob of blood, turned back to face the alien, and grinned. Pathetic as it was, it roared in outrage and moved to strike him again.

"Silence."

The voice was low, quiet, barely heard above the alien's angry hissing, but its effect was instant. The subordinate and all of the guards immediately threw themselves to the dusty ground, their heads covered by their arms. One of the guards moaned in terror.

Schmidt stayed on his feet, never admitting even to himself that doing so had been a struggle. There was power in that voice, both ancient and evil, with a patience to it that made Schmidt's seventy year wait for liberation feel like nothing.

The asteroids floating above the surface of the one he stood on parted and Schmidt saw at last what was at the top of those impossible stairs.

It was a throne, massive and ornate, perched on nothing in a flagrant denial of physics. In it sat an alien with blue skin covered almost completely with golden armour. He was huge, his angularily striped chin his most prominant feature next to the cold hatred in his eyes.

He looked at Schmidt as if he were gazing on a worm, the way Schmidt himself had looked down on so many himself, and Schmidt needed to fight to keep his chin up and return the alien's stare. 

"Thanos," he grated and heard the subordinate hiss in outrage at his feet.

Thanos' lip curved ever so slightly in a smirk. "Interesting. A nameless slave who dares to speak to me."

"I am no slave!" Schmidt shouted as if he weren't garbed in slave clothing and hadn't suffered as one for seven decades. "And I have never been nameless! I am the Red Skull!"

"You are a nameless nothing," Thanos said, "just like everything around here. Still..." He leaned forward, one hand stroking his chin, and Schmidt gasped as the alien's eyes pierced his and something unnatural slammed into his mind. It was Thanos, he realized, reading every one of his thoughts even as Schmidt struggled uselessly to force him back out. His entire past flashed before his eyes, from his childhood to his rise in ambition, his work with Erskine, the taking of the serum, the creation of Hydra. The fight against Captain America for the Tesseract and his banishment to the other side of the galaxy, where he was made a slave while too weakened to resist. Thanos looked on seventy years of hell.

Finally, he let go and leaned back in his chair again. Schmidt dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for breath and too shaken to force himself back to his feet. 

"Hmm." Thanos chuckled, the sound of it like death and disease. "So one of these Avengers of Earth thwarts me again. I begin to mislike this tiny planet of yours, slave."

"I am no slave," Schmidt growled and forced his shaking limbs to push him back to his feet. Even terrified, he wouldn't let this monster force him down again.

Thanos ignored his pronouncement. "These thieves will likely return to this planet Earth. You will take a legion of my soldiers there to find them."

Schmidt's breath caught. "You're sending me back? Why?"

"Why not?" Thanos waved a hand. "Conquor it, destroy it, I care not. But find the object they stole and send it back to me with my daughter. Do you understand, Nebula?"

"Sure, Dad." Another blue skinned alien - Schmidt had no idea where on the tiny asteroid she'd been hiding - walked past him, dressed in the tight clothing of a whore with cybernetic implants everywhere. "It'll be fun." She glanced at Schmidt and made an expression of disgust. "Well, part of it, anyway."

Schmidt would see her flayed for that. For now, he grasped the power he'd been given as a long denied right and glared at Thanos as a grudging equal. "I will find your property," he agreed, "because it suits me to do so. And I will take the Earth as mine." With that, he turned and strode with his head high back to the shuttle that would take him to his justly deserved command.

Nebula watched him go with pursed lips and turned to regard the foster father she hated more than any other thing in existence. "You gave him his freedom? That misfit abortion?"

Thanos' grin widened. "Of course not. It means nothing if he thinks otherwise, but that creature will always be my slave." He waved a dismissal. "Go and see that he does not fail, my daughter." 

"Sure thing, Dad." She strode after Schmidt, her hips swaying. "And if he does fail," she murmured in a promise that he nontheless heard, "I'll bring you back his head."

Thanos chuckled and his throne turned back around as he returned to his endless thoughts.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's short. I know.

The Milano's departure from HalfWorld was much quicker than her arrival had been. Steve, Bucky, the Guardians, Sleipnir, and Pumpkin raced down the corridors of the facility, headed for the entrance, augmented animals from a dozen different species diving to get out of their way. Shocked to learn that Bucky's VI implant might have commands in it that came from seventy years of brainwashing and torture, Dr Eight didn't want him to leave and ran upside down on the ceiling, covering them in shadow where she blocked the lights.

"Stop! Stop! Possibility of error in VI criteria! Analysis required!"

She grabbed for Bucky with her prothetic limbs. He ducked under them, put on a burst of speed, and raced out the front entrance, Pumpkin running happily at his heels.

"Come back!" she shrieked. "Come back! Error level above 0.00784 percent is not acceptable!"

"And this is why you should have maybe conferred with the guy who's got medical power of attorney over him first," Steve muttered, trying not to feel petty. Mostly he was worried about what was happening or about to happen on earth. He had to get back there and warn the Avengers.

Fortunately for them, Peter was in agreement. He didn't consider Earth to be his home anymore, but he still had fond memories of it and apparently a feeling of protectiveness as well. If the other Guardians disagreed with his decision to try and beat the invading army there, they didn't bother to say anything, though Gamora looked pinched and Drax gleeful. Rocket just kept muttering under his breath and it was impossible to tell with Groot.

They all ran outside and the cockpit of the Milano opened at their approach. It was a scramble into the cramped space inside as Peter dropped into the pilot's seat and started up the engine.

Just before the cockpit sealed itself, Dr Eight skittered inside and clung upside down to the canopy as Peter hit the accelerators.

The Milano surged upwards, burning the ground behind it as the ship raced for the sky at enough Gs to push Peter back in his seat and crush everyone who didn't have the ability to cling to any surface into a mass at the back of the cockpit.

"Ow! Ow! My breasts! Get your boots off my fucking breasts before I make you eat them!"

"Your posterior does not belong in my face!"

"Neeeeeighhhh!"

"Stop him, he's eating Groot!"

"I am Groot!"

"Whine! Whimper, whimper!"

"Groot, stop punching Sleipnir!"

"Hahahahahaha!"

"Bucky, this isn't funny!"

"Get the fuck off me! I have to turn off the shields around the planet before we slam into them!"

The sky around the Milano turned black, dotted by the white of stars and the colour of galaxies. The faint shimmer of the planet's shield grew closer and just before they crashed into it, Dr Eight reached down with a long leg and tapped out a sequence on the comm computer. The shield dropped.

Peter didn't even notice, still pressed back in his seat with his hands gripping the controls, a feral grin on his face, and headphones blasting music at a deafening volume into his ears.

Look out, Earth. The Guardians of the Galaxy were on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamnit, Dr Eight was not supposed to get on that ship! Friggin' characters writing themselves, bloody hell, do you have any idea how freaking hard it is to write her dialogue??
> 
> Next chapter: What have the Avengers been up to? (no clue)


	43. Chapter 43

Since the day Bucky Barnes was put on ice and Steve Rogers demanded that he be frozen along with him, life had been overwhelmingly hellish for the Avengers.

Nobody realized - except probably Natasha - just how effectively Captain America was able to wrangle all of their disperate personalities, not until they didn't have him anymore and they were forced to pick a new leader.

Thor was the first obvious choice, but he was trained to command entire armies of millenias old, damned near immortal berserkers who thought charging headlong into battle against anything was a damned fine plan. After the squid incident and Clint refusing to come down off of the refrigerator for two days, he was told to keep his style of leadership back on Asgard.

Clint refused flat out to be any sort of leader, to the point where he just took out his hearing aids anytime the topic came up and pretended he didn't know sign language.

Natasha was much the same, except when she was asked, she spontaneously forgot how to speak English.

Sam Wilson pointed out that he lived in DC and wasn't an official Avenger anyway. Nor was he interested in taking charge and losing his own well tended sanity, thank you very much.

The Hulk as a leader was a laughable disaster.

Tony was worse.

Pepper said no when she was asked, bought everyone a Russian/English dictionary, and told Natasha she was hired.

So began the second Age of the Avengers, with the Black Widow in charge. She actually wasn't a bad leader, other than the total lack of compassion she had for any sort of weakness, which made Tony especially miserable. The rest of them too actually, though they were all too afraid of her to admit it.

Eventually, Pepper promised, while Tony lay with his head in her lap and whined, they'd get used to Natasha's tough love brand of leadership and all of them would be stronger for it. 

Or strung up somewhere upside down with their throats cut, Tony didn't add. 

Perhaps they would have, or perhaps not, but the argument became moot when a single embarrassed phone call from Phil Coulson forced them to come together.

"What do you mean, somebody stole Cap's body?!" Tony screamed into the phone.

Coulson sounded like he had a headache on the other end, even through the shitty connection that echoed like his cell phone was held together by duct tape, or perhaps cobbled from a piece of wrapping gum, some string, and an old shoe. 

"Sergeant Barnes was taken too," Coulson said.

"Great. They can keep him." Tony held the one phone to his ear while he typed with his thumbs on a cell. 

TONY (TO AVENGERS): Avengers assemble!

"Who took Cap?" Tony asked. "From the super secret base that nobody knows about?"

"From the security recordings, it looks like ex-AIM mercenaries. We didn't get much on tape, but we were able to put that much together. They probably want to sell them both on the black market. They're still in their tubes."

"I hope they get a good price for Barnes. That kind of crazy is expensive." Tony looked at his cell as it buzzed with the incoming responses of his teammates.

CLINT: no. game on.

BRUCE: I'm in the middle of a delicate experiment. Can it wait?

SAM: Uh, still in DC here. At work. Like normal people.

THOR: Hi there, this is Darcy. Thor's banging the boss. Do I have to get him? Please tell me I don't have to get him. He's hot but the boss mid-O is scary.

NATASHA: Tony, I warned you about ever abusing the group channel again.

Tony rolled his eyes, hoped Natasha wasn't serious for once, and typed some more.

TONY: Capsicle's been nabbed. We gotta move before they put him on Ebay.

"Mister Stark?" Coulson sounded increasingly annoyed over the phone. "I wouldn't have contacted you, but my resources are limited and you're the only Avenger who gave me a phone number."

"No, you mean Pepper gave you a phone number. Hang on, I'm calling in the troops."

"I wasn't aware they listened to you. I just want you to update Black Widow."

CLINT: Aw, Cap, no!

BRUCE: GJETAAGLADFG;HAGAFG;LHAWRTO

SAM: What, again?

THOR: Shit. This is still Darcy. I'll get Thor. Maybe I'll get lucky and see his ass.

NATASHA: Avengers, assemble!

CLINT: Yes, dear.

BRUCE: FLKGAGGH ADGL HULK GFFGD! COME!

SAM: Still in DC! Give me a couple hours.

THOR: Darcy again. Thor's on his way. Damn he's got a fine ass. And everything else. PS, he doesn't have his phone. Or his pants. I love my life.

"Don't worry, Phil, old buddy old pal," Tony grinned. "The Avengers'll have your lost little lamb THAT WE FUCKING TRUSTED YOU WITH back in no time at all!"

***  
FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS LATER...

Finally, finally they had their prize. After the long search for the mercenaries through black markets and drug labs, after buying information with Tony's money, Natasha's threats, and Clint's arrows; after seeing Sam crowned as the King of the Lava Worms and the Hulk pole dancing in an opium den deep in Latveria, finally, finally they had the cryo tube holding their leader back.

They had Bucky's tube back too, but as far as Tony was concerned, that was almost accidental. 

"Oh god, I thought this was never going to be over," Tony groaned as he dropped his helmet and stomped in a suit down to one percent power over toward where the two tubes had been hidden inside of a replica Egyptian sarcophagus hidden in a lambing barn.

"I am so tired," Bruce managed, face down and pantsless in a pile of not entirely clean straw. Sam was beside him, already snoring.

"It was a good battle," Thor said, but even he was tired and Tony didn't want to think about some of what was smeared onto his armour after the epic battle with the slime pudding.

Natasha was over beside Clint, both of them weary and leaning on the cryo tubes as a quick way to cool down. Natasha was actually letting herself look tired and stood with her eyes closed.

Clint was looking into Bucky's tube, staring at his face with a growing frown on his face. 

"Something wrong?" Tony asked as he clumped closer. "Wrong tube? Did we find Walt Disney by mistake?"

Natasha gave the archer a more serious look. "What is it?"

"I don't..." Clint frowned even more and reached over, hitting the big red button Tony had told them NOT to touch because it would thaw out the psycho supersoldier and they didn't want that. For reasons.

"Aw, fuck!" Tony yelled. "I don't have enough power left for another fight!"

Clint ignored him, pulling the lid open the moment he could. Icy air rolled out and he and Natasha looked in, stared, looked up at each other, and ran as one to trigger Steve's tube.

"What's wrong?" Thor demanded, gripping his hammer until the leather wrap creaked. Bruce looked worried and even Sam woke and sat up.

"Are they dead?" Tony whispered, horrified.

Natasha shook her head. "That's not the right question," she murmured.

"Yeah," Clint added and straightened up. "I can't believe I'm going to actually say this, but the right question is 'who the hell swapped Steve and Bucky out for inflatable sex dolls?'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, who could it have been?


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, kinda trigger warning for the drawing of the big ass spider at the end of the chapter?
> 
> That thing took forever to draw!
> 
> ETA: Added Eight's extra eyes since it was driving me nuts.

The huge spider loomed over the table, legs spread wide and braced against both the floor and ceiling. Her living eyes gleamed with cold reflection from the lights, her prosthetic attachments shifting and whirring as her mandibles worked together. There was the faintest whir of gears while her first set of legs and many of her prosthetics pressed down on the prey currently trapped beneath her.

Apparently, said prey found this to be exceptionally ticklish.

Bucky couldn't stop giggling, his legs and butt, which were the only part of him that Steve could see underneath massive amounts of spider, kicking and flailing as he tried to either squirm himself free or roll into a ball. Either way, he was being exceptionally unhelpful and Dr Eight needed all of her limbs just to keep him from getting away. She certainly wasn't having any luck getting her interface plug into the VI port Bucky apparently had just behind his left ear. 

Most of the Guardians were watching this with varying degrees of amusement. Steve had tried to help and ended up getting kicked in the head as a result. He was pretty sure it had been unintentional, but Bucky was wearing steel toed combat boots and Steve decided to wait out his headache well beyond kicking range.

"Fifty credits on the spider," Rocket said.

"I will take that bet and see you lose!" Drax announced.

"You're all idiots," Gamora told them from where she also sat outside of boot range and sharpened her sword, but there was a smile on her face.

Considering what they were potentially headed for, the Guardians were very calm. As far as Steve could tell, they were of the opinion that until they could actually do something, they weren't going to worry. Steve was more of the 'make a plan' type, but there was so little they knew. Thanos' soldiers were heading for Earth. How? When would they get there? How many of them were coming? Where were they going to land? How were they armed? 

Watching Bucky struggle against Eight instead of dwelling on all of those unknowns was actually something of a relief.

"Hey, everybody," Peter called as he slid down the ladder from the cockpit, blanched at the sight of Eight and Bucky, and then apparently decided to ignore them both. "Uh, we're getting close enough to Earth I'm picking up signals. TV and shit. This Hannibal show going on? What the fuck's up with that?"

"Did you find out anything interesting?" Gamora asked, setting down her sword.

Peter shrugged. "Dunno. Stuff I find interesting, sure, but Thanos' goons?" He looked at Steve. "Want to listen in? You're the strategist type." Gamora made an insulted noise. "Who's actually been to Earth," he stressed in her direction.

Steve looked over towards Bucky. Eight had taken a different approach and was busily wrapping Bucky up in spidersilk. Being tied down by his limbs made Bucky freak out, but for some reason, being essentially swaddled calmed him right down. He seemed happy enough and Eight would finally get the chance to review the programming in his VI for the dangers Steve warned her about, so Steve followed Peter up into the cockpit.

They were in Earth's solar system, close enough to one of the planets that Steve could actually recognize it. The Hubble space photographs had been one of the modern wonders he'd really appreciated since he woke up. 

Peter headed over to the pilot seat and sat down while Steve took the chair beside him. "We've been getting transmissions for a while," Peter told him. "Old stuff, sound travels slowly, blah blah blah, but we're close enough now that it's pretty modern. Modern enough to talk about you." He tapped the comm computer and zeroed in on a new program talking about Captain America and the Avengers setting up their headquarters in New York. That broadcast was at least a year old from when Steve went into cryo. 

"I'm picking up our opponents too," Peter told him. "Didn't want to say anything downstairs just yet." He keyed a screen and Steve saw a huge blob moving across it, headed for Earth.

"Can they see us too?" he asked.

"Don't think so. We're real small and Milano's got some of the best sensors in the galaxy. All reaver ships do. Kinda useless if they're blind to targets or danger." He gestured at the blob. "That's a troop carrier. Soldiers, individual flight vehicles, ground weapons. Lots of them. It's an invasion force."

Another invasion force. Steve felt sick. He'd brought this on Earth, getting back that womb. Now he had to do something about it. He turned to Peter. "Can they see the same transmissions we do?"

"Yeah."

So they were likely going to head straight for New York, and the Earth's Mightiest Defenders, as the news put it. Plus that would be where they'd expect Steve to go, if they'd recognized him from the science centre in the news reports. 

"I'll give you a frequency. Once we're in range, start yelling a warning on it. We need for people to know that this is coming." Steve stood.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked. "I hope you got a plan. Um, I don't like to say this, but there's too many of them for us to fight off. There must be thousands on that ship."

"There were thousands in the last invasion force we defeated too." Steve pointed out and went down the ladder to the living area. 

Bucky was lying wrapped from foot to neck in silver spider silk, a half asleep look on his face and a cable running from behind his ear to a computer Eight was working on. Pumpkin stood beside the table with her head resting on it, her muzzle wriggling every time Bucky exhaled on her, which made him give a sleepy laugh. Gamora and Drax were engaging in a quiet conversation about weaponry while Rocket counted his winnings and there was no sign of Groot, who'd taken to his bunk hours ago.

Steve stepped into the narrow hall between the rows of sleeping bunks. Sleipnir was sitting back there, on a pile of blankets, his legs splayed and his ears drooping. He did look up as Steve approached him. 

"Sleipnir," Steve said to him. "I have a message I need for you to take to your mother."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eight is kinda/sorta based on the Huntsman spider.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, it’s been over a year since I updated this??? I should really reread everything I’ve written so that I don’t do some massive contradiction and risk screwing up entire plotlines and personalities.
> 
> …nah…

The Red Skull had his plan worked out to the finest detail and it was masterful. With the alien soldiers and weapons he had access to now, he could augment the forces of Hydra once he made contact with them and topple entire governments with a minimum of destruction and conflict. It would be the finest of surgery, a fait accompli that would give him the entire world utterly intact without having to bother with these so called superheroes that decimated the last army Thanos sent this way. He did not, after all, have any intentions of ruling over a ruin.

“Booooring,” Nebula sing-songed when he told her and hit the klaxon for a mass ground attack on New York City. 

###

“Have you sent the warning yet?” Steve shouted up into the cockpit of the Milano while he tried to unravel the reams of spidersilk still wrapped around Bucky. It was awkward, messy work and the strands kept gumming up his fingers, but no one looked inclined to help him. Not even Drax, though he was busy spoon feeding Bucky some sort of orange oatmeal, which at least had the benefit of keeping him from squirming. Doctor Eight was up in a corner of the ceiling working on some sort of missive to her employers explaining where she was while Rocket sat underneath her, assembling what Steve hoped weren’t bombs, given he was just tossing them into a box when he was done. Groot was still locked away in one of the sleep pods but Sleipnir had emerged, munching on some of his feed in preperation for his coming journey. Pumpkin was asleep underneath the ladder and Gamora was up in the cockpit with Peter.

“Uh, what was that?” Peter shouted back down.

Steve managed to get one of Bucky’s arms free. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get this webbing all the way off of him. “I said have you sent the warning yet!” He shouted again. Earth needed to know what was coming.

“Er, not really?”

Steve turned his full attention on the ladder while Drax set the empty bowl aside and wiped Bucky’s face with a cloth before taking a solid grip on the webbing with both hands and ripping it into two pieces and straight off of him. Steve didn’t notice, already halfway up the ladder. 

“I told you to warn them!” he nearly bellowed as he climbed into the cockpit. “They need to know about the danger!”  
Peter gave him a sheepish look, but Gamora’s was rather more amused. “Considering they’re currently being attacked by Thanos’ entire Third ground army, I think they’ve already figured it out.” 

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “Ah, shit,” he said.

###

Sleipnir finished a last mouthful of the grain he’d brought with him for this trip. It was good stuff, nice and filling, but it was the same stuff he’d been eating for all this time and once they landed he was going to have to go galloping back across dimensions to deliver Blondie’s message to Mommy. After this whole trip, with no soft straw to sleep on, the diapers, getting shot at, the diapers, getting stuck in the pilot’s chair, and the diapers, grain wasn’t good enough. He was tired and grumpy and chafed, and he wanted something more than grain. 

The big horse edged towards the sleeping area and nosed the door open while no one was looking. Nobody was really going to care if he grazed on Groot. He wasn’t going to eat all of him, just take a bit off the top, and the sides, and all around, and that was it. He’d grow back. Probably. 

Groot was in the big pod at the back of the room, against the far wall. Sleipnir let the door slide shut behind him and stepped quietly over, just in case someone outside heard, and lipped at the control panel. Groot had been sleeping for hours and hours. He obviously needed some grazing. He lipped in the opening code and the top rotated over to reveal his delicately ferned little meal.

Only it wasn’t quite so delicate as he remembered.

###

“What’s that?” Drax growled as he grabbed his knife and shoved Bucky behind him at the sound of neighing screams and crashing in the sleep quarters. Bucky took the opportunity to grab up a laser cannon.

Rocket looked towards the door, his ears pricked. “Hey, sounds like Groot finally finished his growth cycle!” He cheered.

Drax considered that and shrugged. “Huh,” he said and examined the knife instead to see if it needed sharpening, all while the Milano kept heading for Earth.


	46. Chapter 46

Someday, someone had to explain to Clint why aliens had such a hard-on for New York City. Of all the places on Earth that they could attack, why there? Was it the cuisine? The theatre? The unique level of fuck-offery attained by the average local? Hell, for all he knew, it was the stench that drew them. He couldn’t think of any other reason for them to drop down in their obviously highly armed and armoured ships and get out so they could go mano-a-mano with a pissed off Avenger. Maybe they were just looking for some intergalactic street cred.

That would explain all the ‘come on, dude, fight me alone,’ motions they seemed to be making, he thought to himself as he took aim at one big, brawny, frighteningly pink fighter with an orifice in the middle of its forehead that he really hoped was its ear and not the asshole it actually looked like. Either way, it made for an easy target, especially when Clint was using explosive arrows.

“They’re making this easy for us,” he said into his comm as he targeted the next from his vantage point on top of the train station right in front of Avengers Tower. Pull, sight, release. Pull, sight, release. There were fewer aliens than there had been during the Chitaura invasion, and they didn’t seem to give a damn about civilians or collateral damage. They just headed like futuristic lemmings straight for Avengers Tower. Overhead, Tony blew past, firing tiny missiles by the dozens at the soldiers while Thor’s lightning lit them up.

“Are you actually complaining about easy, Legolas?” Tony laughed. “I’m good with some easy. Pepper and I have a date tonight.” Hulk leaped into the centre of a mass of the aliens, flailing around himself in a fury and the aliens all started firing at him, apparently chicken-shitted into forgetting their desire to prove how badass they were. 

“This is not a real battle to them,” Thor put in. His voice was staticky over the comms, despite Tony’s continuing efforts. At least his comms hadn’t completely burned out yet. “They think us mere sport, not worth their time unless fought one to one.”

“You kidding me?” Clint shrilled. “After we’ve killed how many of them already?”

“They do not value their lives. Only the quality of their deaths.”

“Well now I just feel used,” Tony bitched.

“Feel used later,” Natasha snapped. “Unless you’d rather try to fight them all at the same time.”

“Yes, mother.”

More ships dropped, a lot more than Clint liked to see, and he revised his assessment that there had been more Chitauri. If this kept up, in a few minutes there was going to be a lot more of these guys, and they were from different species, not all of which had the convenient assholes in the middle of their foreheads. Still more ships appeared, disgorging more aliens, these ones slim and seemingly fragile but fast enough to dodge even his arrows if they saw them coming. Along with them stepped what would have been a beautiful woman, if women came coloured in antifreeze blue. 

“Heads up,” he called as she paused to look around instead of just starting towards the tower like the rest of them. “Looks like we got someone in charge here.”

“I see her,” Natasha said.

Apparently, the woman saw Natasha at the same time, and recognized in her a leader as well. She leaped forward, a good fifty feet in one jump, and suddenly Natasha was fighting for her life against her, the other aliens forming a circle of space around them to give them room and cheer them on. And keep the other Avengers back from being able to reach them.

“Nat!” Cliff screamed, not that she had anything to spare she could use to answer him.

###

Natasha had never fought against an opponent like this. Alien, yes, augmented, yes, super powered, also yes, but all three? Intelligent as well and battle trained, with experience to rival at least Natasha’s own. This wasn’t the type of opponent Natasha would take on hand-to-hand. She’d send someone like Thor in instead. For herself, she’d use assassination and keep as far away from the target as she possibly could. 

She didn’t have that option here. The woman met her every strike with hits as strong as Steve could make and she didn’t pull her blows. Nor did she move the way that a human would, her cybernetic limbs bending in ways humans couldn’t even as she pouted with what looked to resemble very human boredom.

“This won’t last long,” she said.

“I need help,” Natasha panted into her comm, words she hadn’t ever thought she’d have to say.

“On our way,” Tony said, sounding more frightened than she’d ever heard him. “Thor’s with me. Just hold out for fifteen seconds.”

She’d try, but Nat wasn’t sure she had fifteen seconds left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Nat, I really do. But I honestly don't think she'd have a snowball's chance in hell in a straight out fight against someone like Nebula (ducks and runs from the tomatoes)


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned to write this scene, I really hadn't. But apparently a lot of people wanted to see the fight between Nebula and Natasha. So here it is. I could probably have made it longer, but my wrist hurts.

The blue alien sighed. “Are you seriously the best this planet has? This obviously won’t take long,” she said.

Natasha didn’t respond to the taunt. That’s all it was after all, a taunt to unsettle her, to force her to make a mistake. Natasha didn’t make mistakes of those kinds; she was usually the one levelling the taunts instead.

With strategic retreat not an option, she moved towards the other woman - in truth, she could only assume the alien was a woman - her body supple and relaxed, her form leading to the left and then snapping to the right, aiming her widow’s bites at the opposite side of the woman’s body instead. 

The alien swung her belly away from her, one cybernetic arm thrusting downward vertically between them in a block. Natasha’s widow’s bites sparked brilliantly against the blue skin and metal, but the woman didn’t flinch or even appear to feel anything. She certainly wasn’t incapacitated and Natasha cursed as she threw herself back out of reach.

Fast as she was, she wasn’t fast enough. Nebula’s free hand snagged a painfully good grip in her hair and Natasha was yanked straight up into the air, flipped over, and slammed down face first against the ground so hard that blood coughed up into her mouth and she couldn’t hear her own choked cry over the cheers of the surrounding aliens. A moment later, she was airborne again and smashed a second time into the pavement on her back.

Everything hurt, an agony of broken bones and internal bleeding. She wasn’t going to win this; she wasn’t even going to escape this. Instead of fear, she felt remarkably calm about it, more pissed off than anything else. The alien still looked bored, as if Natasha’s dying wasn’t even worth her bothering over. One of Clint’s arrows exploded against the side of her neck and she brushed that off too as if it weren’t anything more than a flea bite. 

The alien let go of Natasha’s hair, letting her head thump down against the pavement, and through blackening vision, Natasha saw her shake strands of red hair free from her fingers with a disgusted expression, the first one other than boredom she’d shown. Distantly, Natasha wished her mouth wasn’t filled with blood so that she could get in a really good, sarcastic dig, especially when the woman finally deigned to speak to her.

“So much for my entertainment,” she said. “Did you actually think you’d last any longer than this?”

Something dropped between them, a flash of green and purple that hit the blue cyborg so hard she went flying backwards into her own troops with a shriek of outraged pain. 

“Did you?” Gamora asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... In my defense, I did say earlier that I didn't think Natasha would realistically have a hope in hell against Nebula (ducks and runs from the tomatoes).


	48. Chapter 48

Steve had never seen a horse with a black eye before.

Sleipnir stood in front of him, ears laid flat and a shiner around his eye that a world class boxer could have been proud of. He had a fat lip as well and a bloody nose. All in all, it was not a good look on a horse. Sleipnir’s expression was downright sulky.

Steve manfully resisted every urge he had to ask him what happened. Even if they’d had the time, which they didn’t; even if Sleipnir could actually tell him, which he couldn’t; Steve could guess. The eight-foot-tall walking tree standing at the door to the sleeping pods and smirking at Sleipnir’s back was a pretty irrefutable clue.

Bucky wandered over to Groot, already armoured up and carrying a plasma rifle he’d looted from Rocket braced loosely against his shoulder. Pumpkin trailed along at his heels. “You got big,” he commented. 

Groot looked down at him and smiled. “I am Groot,” he intoned. 

Bucky nodded. “No kidding. Nobody’s going to try and eat you now.”

At his side, Pumpkin stepped forward to sniff at Groot’s bark and started to lift a leg.

“I AM GROOT!” Groot bellowed.

Steve focused on the sulking Sleipnir. “The moment we land,” he told him. “You go and deliver our message to your mother,” he told the horse. “We need his help. Can you do that?”

Sleipnir huffed out an irritated breath that didn’t sound anything like an agreement and Steve grabbed his nose, lifting his head up so that he was looking at him. “Sleipnir,” he said. “You’re an important member of this team. We need you to do this. Do you understand?”

Sleipnir’s eyes widened, his ears perking up from their flattened position, and he nodded. Steve nodded as well. That was going to have to be good enough.

Peter’s voice sounded over the speakers. “Hang onto your butts,” he said. “We’re hitting atmosphere in three.”  
While everyone else grabbed onto something stationary, Drax frowned. “What is the purpose of holding our butts? What good is that going to do?” 

A second later, they hit the Earth’s atmosphere in a steep, screaming dive, far too soon for anyone to have a chance to explain it to him, or to get out of the way of six hundred pounds of flying alien.

***

The Milano didn’t make it to the surface intact. The local jet fighters they mostly ignored, but oh no, the invaders seemed to have a reaver ship on some sort of threat list, which meant all of their drop ships decided to open fire on them.

“If you’re not careful, we’re going to die,” Gamora noted with a certain amount of annoyance.

”Shut up,” Peter told her her while trying not to prove her right. This had really been a whole hell of a lot easier when no one has taken them seriously.

Peter braced himself in his seat, hands gripping the controls until his knuckles were white, and glared at the enemy ships with his teeth bared. It made him look angry, daring, and made it less likely that he was going to vomit all over the control panel while they flipped and barrel rolled all over the sky, trying not to get gutted by plasma fire.

“They’ve landed a full battalion,” Gamora said, somehow managing to make a full tactical analysis of the ground situation despite the acrobatics, and making herself heard even over the crashing and cursing coming from below. “My sister Nebula is in charge.

“Wonderful,” Peter grated and swallowed hard. He was not going to throw up. He was not. Nope. Absolutely no way.

Okay, maybe he was.

During his distraction, Milano took a hit on her starboard wing and corkscrewed immediately towards the ground, alarms blaring.

“Fucking hell!” Peter shrieked, fighting the controls. “I hate this!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Gamora sighed as she clapped one green hand over his on the control stick and yanked back, nearly crushing his fingers but hauling the Milano’s nose up. The landing wasn’t going to be a nice one, but anything that didn’t involve flaming wreckage on their part was good as far as he was concerned. “I can see Nebula being a Diva on one of the locals. I’ll go and take care of her. You land the ship and deal with the others.

“A battalion’s worth?” Peter managed to yelp with the few brain cells that weren’t focused on landing them. Or rather, on skidding them to a landing along one of the city’s main roads, which did help squish a bunch of bad guys out of their way at least. 

“Focus on the ones with the circled helms,” she suggested and hit the button to open the canopy hatch. “They’re the leaders.” Then she was gone, out the hatch and away before the Milano even stopped sliding.

“Fantastic!” Peter shouted after her. “What the hell does a circled helm look like?”

Typically, there was no response. Not unless a dozen of the enemy climbing up onto the nose of the Milano with angry expressions on their faces counted.


End file.
